


Russian Sunshine and Other Terms of Endearment

by bluesuedeshoes



Series: Olicity Drabbles [2]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-07
Updated: 2014-10-02
Packaged: 2018-02-12 06:26:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 47
Words: 32,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2098986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluesuedeshoes/pseuds/bluesuedeshoes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another series of oneshots and drabbles inspired by prompts on Tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hands Off

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my Dirty Birds for keeping me knee-deep in writing material.

**prompt: The idea is like a Burlesque AU, so Felicity is a burlesque dancer and Oliver could be either a business man who comes into the club or a bartender or someone completely different. Felicity is used to only being wanted for being pretty (while she is also very smart and adorable)? Sara and Thea could be co-dancers, and Roy a bartender (maybe tommy as well?) Just see what you can do/want to do with it LOL**

—Hands Off—

It started—Oliver’s addiction, that is—with a phone call from a friend.

 _“Ollie,”_ Tommy had said. _“You gotta stop by the club and meet this new girl. She’s incredible.”_

Oliver had resisted an urge to roll his eyes. His long time friend, Tommy Merlyn, ran an uptown Burlesque club (a “classy strip bar,” Oliver called it derogatorily) and every so many weeks he called Oliver, insisting he come see the new flavor of the month.

Oliver used to indulge Tommy occasionally, but he’d grown up a little more quickly than his friend after the loss of his parents a few years back. 

Visiting Tommy and his collection of high end exotic dancers was falling lower and lower on his priority list, far behind all of his responsibilities running his parents’ company.

 _“You’re not dodging me on this one, man,”_ Tommy had insisted. _“I’m telling you, you gotta meet her to understand.”_

Laughing a little, Oliver had reluctantly agreed, saying he’d stop by during Thea’s shift some weekend. Much to Oliver’s chagrin, Tommy had offered Oliver’s baby sister her very first part-time job waiting tables at Verdant, the burlesque club, and there had been nothing Oliver could say to stop her.

It had taken him two weekends to stop by, the bartender, a young kid named Roy (who had eyes for Thea, Oliver had noticed), waving him over when he walked in.

It hadn’t mattered when Roy placed Oliver’s usual drink in his hand that night because the next moment Tommy’s ‘new girl’ appeared on stage, and Oliver almost forgot how to breathe.

It wasn’t just that Felicity Smoak was beautiful. Her act…it was beyond clever. Every time you thought you were going to catch more than a glimpse of her skin, something appeared to block your view: a silk robe, a large ornamental fan, and even, at the end of the number, the arms and hands of the other dancers, blocking a full view of Felicity Smoak as God intended her.

The effect was beyond tantalizing. It left Oliver’s curiosity running wild and his mouth watering. If he’d been able to tear his eyes away from her long enough to look around, he would have noticed a similar effect on every other person in the room.

He hadn’t met her until later that night, when she appeared in a bright yellow evening gown (a stand-out choice amongst tuxedos and little black dresses). But even then, he was only watching her from afar as she worked the room, smiling demurely as she let people compliment her and pull her close. She smiled flirtatiously but spoke, Oliver noticed, very rarely.

“Ollie,” a woman’s voice greeted him and he looked up to see Sara, one of the other dancers and an old-flame-turned-longtime-friend. She took a seat next to him and signaled to Roy that she wanted a drink. “Haven’t seen you around in a while. I was starting to think you didn’t love me anymore,” she teased.

“Uh huh,” Oliver said absently, still keeping one eye on a golden yellow dress across the room.

Sara had followed his gaze and chuckled quietly, shaking her head. A moment later, Roy brought her a martini and indicated two men at the other end of the bar who had paid for it.

“I’ll talk to you later handsome,” she’d said. “Duty calls.” With which remark she went to join her admirers and—Oliver knew—get them to spend more money at Tommy’s bar.

Oliver sipped his gin slowly, chatting on and off with Roy about how his sister was doing. Thea stopped by briefly to say hello and to promise him for the millionth time that the men there kept their hands off of her (Something both Roy and Tommy regularly assured him of as well).  
That was when there had been a disturbance on the other side of the room. Felicity’s face was flushed as she yelled for a man to let go of her, his hands wrapped tightly around her wrist.

Oliver was already out of his seat to come to her aid when the bouncer, John Diggle, arrived at her side. Tommy followed suit in a matter of minutes.

“Is there a problem here?” Oliver heard him say over the murmuring. The man in question gave him a low muttered response, gesturing rudely in Felicity’s direction. “Hey, any of the girls here tells you hands off it’s hands off, buddy. Digg, see this gentleman out and see that he doesn’t come back.”

More than happy to follow orders, Diggle roughly dragged the man away and the crowd, apparently used to these sort of outbursts, let Tommy apologize for the disturbance before returning to their evenings.

Oliver watched Tommy put his arm around Felicity and murmur a few kind words to her before sending her over to the bar.

“What was that all about?” Roy asked when she got there, automatically handing her a tall glass of ice water, “You okay, Barbie?”

“Here, Felicity, let one of these gentlemen buy you a drink,” Sara suggested kindly, still entertaining the men who had sent her the martini earlier. “I can’t keep all the sweet guys to myself,” she giggled in that way she only did for paying customers, as much trying to be nice to Felicity as she was keeping up the flirtation.

The men looked more than eager to make good on Sara’s offer on their behalf, but Felicity waved them off. “I’m fine, thanks,” she told the trio and Roy simultaneously.

Oliver lifted his brow slightly. That was unprecedented. The dancers didn’t turn down drinks here. It defeated half their purpose. Oliver guessed she must be shaken up.

“So anyway, Felicity, I gotta tell you that computer you built me: freaking insane. You’re incredible.”

Oliver coughed slightly. Had he heard that correctly? She’d built Roy a computer?

Felicity was grinning, suddenly in her element. “Glad you like it. It was no big deal. You fixed my car last month. We’re even.”

Tommy, who had been smoothing things over with a few patrons, chose that moment to appear, placing his arm around Felicity’s shoulders again.

“Hey, Felicity. I’m sorry about that jerk. He’s earned himself a lifetime banishment, okay? You good?”

Felicity smiled. “I’m good. Thanks, Tommy.”

“Hey, Tommy,” Sara pointed out, “Ollie’s here.” She gestured in Oliver’s direction.

Tommy’s head whipped up and he lit up at the sight of Oliver. “’bout damn time, man!” he grinned, coming over to clap Oliver into a hug. “Did I tell you or did I tell you? She’s somthin’ right? Felicity, c’mere!” he gestured, calling Felicity over to them.

“Tommy, it’s fine. I’ve seen her.”

“I said you had to meet her, not see her,” Tommy corrected. “Trust me on this.” He beamed when Felicity reached them. “Miss Felicity Smoak, meet Oliver Queen, my oldest friend. He’s gonna take good care of you, okay? You sure you’re good? Great. I gotta schmooze.” With which introduction, Tommy abruptly left them before either of them could protest.

“Well, “Oliver said, attempting to make small talk. “Not to be cliché, but are you good with water? Or can I buy you a drink?”

Felicity smiled and shook her head but said nothing. Oliver was surprised. She didn’t strike him as shy.

“Do you want something else?” Oliver pressed. “Something to eat maybe?”

She grinned, nodding.

“Hey, Roy. Can we get one of those charcuterie boards?” Oliver asked, recognizing that it would be pulling teeth to get her to give something specific to work with. “How long have you worked for Tommy?” he asked Felicity, knowing full well the answer.

“A month.”

“Do you like it?”

She shrugged.

“Okay. There is no way you’re this quiet by nature.”

She had grinned genuinely at this. “Tell me about you. What do you do?”

“Something boring. I work behind a desk. Are you purposefully not talking?”

“Careful, Oliver,” Roy said, placing a platter of meats, cheeses, and fruits in front of them. “Once you get her started, it’s hard to shut her up.”

Oliver looked intrigued while Felicity glared, snatching an olive off the plate and chucking it at Roy, who just laughed.

“That so?” Oliver grinned, looking at her curiously.

She nodded. “I try to contain it,’ she said with a smirk, and Oliver realized that most of the men in Tommy’s club probably bought her drinks so they could look at her and maybe feel her up a little. They didn’t want her to actually talk.

“You can speak your mind,” Oliver grinned conspiratorially. “I don’t mind.”

She looked surprised, popping a second olive into her mouth and chewing before saying, “You sure? Because it’s like Roy said. I babble. And my brain can’t always keep up with my mouth.”

He nodded, already interested. “Did you really build Roy a computer?” he asked to give her a subject.

And to his delight, Felicity launched into an adorable, fast-paced speech about computers, pausing twice in embarrassment when she accidentally made a sexual innuendo but plowing ahead when Oliver only grinned in amusement.

And that was the beginning of Oliver’s addiction. He came back time and time again just to listen to her talk, fascinated by everything she said, unable to get enough of her.

Whenever she saw him in the crowd as she performed, Felicity’s heart skipped a beat. She didn’t know what to make of him, the only man in the room who actually wanted to know her, not just watch her sit still and look pretty.

He never laid a hand on her, not once. She knew he wouldn’t because he didn’t want her to feel cheap, like he was paying for it. And as long as he refused to touch her (no matter how much she might wish he would)…that was how she knew that he was in love with her.


	2. Five Times Felicity’s Undercover Skills Surprised Oliver, and One Time He Blew Her Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: 5 times Felicity shocks Oliver with her adept undercover skills, 1 time Oliver shocks her. Sexy times encouraged

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this during down time at work, so…I kind of felt the need to keep it relatively PG. But I think it will satisfy you, Anon. I had fun coming up with situations for Felicity to show off!
> 
> Oh, and btw, I apologize to anyone who speaks fluent German for my probably horrendous grammar. I tried. I have been assured by a German speaker that it was fine, but I worry, you see….

Going undercover with Felicity was, Oliver realized, always an adventure.  What he hadn’t realized right away was how amazingly good at it she was.  
At first, he had thought it was sheer luck.  Hadn’t it been luck, after all, that saved her in the underground casino?  Or good timing on Digg’s part when she posed as a delivery girl at Merlyn Global?

The first time he really noticed how good she was at it, they were gate crashing a party in Metropolis.  Felicity and Roy were roaming the main floor while Oliver came in through the roof to make sure the human traffickers they were trying to corner didn’t get away that way.

Felicity had spotted two of their suspects slipping away from the main hall and followed after them, much to Oliver’s chagrin.  She got caught almost immediately, but while Roy and Oliver rushed to her rescue, she was able to stall for time by bursting into a Valley Girl persona that Oliver could hear over his communicator.

“Oh my _God_ , did you guys, like, get lost looking for the bathroom, too?  Because I _suh-wear_ , I have been looking for it for, like, _ten_ minutes.  Isn’t this party the friggin’ best though?  Oh my God, I just noticed your muscles are, like, massive! Jeez, you must totally work out all the time.  My ex-boyfriend was such a wimp compared to you.”  She gasped as an idea apparently occurred to her.  “Oh.  Em.  Gee.  Could you do me a favor?  It would be totes be the best thing ever.  Would you take a selfie with me?  You will?  Oh my God!” she squealed, and Oliver could actually picture her bouncing up and down.  “My ex is gonna be so jelly.  You are the best”

Minutes later they found Felicity clutching her heart  in the ladies’ room, face white.

Roy swooped in and hugged her, laughing.  “Felicity, you are a dime!”

“I can’t believe they actually brought me to the bathroom,” she shook her head, glancing at Oliver, who was looking her over from head to toe to be sure she was really okay.  “And I can’t believe I got a bug planted on him either.”

“Barbie, you are amazing.”

“Nice work, Felicity,” Oliver agreed, finally relaxing when he saw that she was definitely in one piece.

“Where’s your phone?  I want to see the selfies.” Roy roared with laughter as Felicity let him scroll through the photos on her phone of her and the known human trafficker and his body guard.

Oliver raised an amused eyebrow as he leaned over Roy’s shoulder. 

“What,” he asked, shaking his head, “are you doing with your mouth?”

“Duck lips, bro.  Duck lips,” Roy explained, shaking with mirth.

* * *

The second time was even more impressive.  They were staying at an all-inclusive resort, placed under strict lockdown when a multi-billionaire weapons designer insisted he had been robbed.  Which he had.  They were systematically searching every guest and every room while Oliver was walking around with the stolen flash drive burning a hole in his pocket.

“I just need a quick distraction, Oliver muttered to her, and she nodded, startling him whens he suddenly  shrieked, “MY BABY!”  Frantically grabbing at other guests in the lobby, she hysterically pleaded with them, “Have you seem my little girl?  Where’s my daughter?  HONEY WHERE ARE YOU?”

Seeing the panic this was inducing, several of the employees blocking doors rushed forward, whether to help or restrain her, Oliver wasn’t sure.  He was too busy seizing his opportunity to slip out the now unattended exit.

Once outside, he found Diggle in their van, and Digg, who’d been listening in and hacking the security feed, called Felicity’s phone.

“Honey, is that you?  Where’s Megan?” Felicity’s voice answered, and Oliver grinned, shaking his head, as he listened.

“She’s with me,” Digg replied, his expression amused as well.  “Safe and sound.”

Felicity uttered some loud expressions of dramatic relief, and then waited for the hotel to search and release her of their own accord.

“Marry me,” Digg said once she climbed in the van and they pulled away.

* * *

The third time was when Oliver realized it wasn’t just luck.  Felicity was straight up gifted.

Oliver had brought her on site to hack into a computer hub, Oliver posing as a security guard while she went undercover as a visitor, touring the facility, complete with ID badge and tour guide.

At the appointed time, Oliver incapacitated the tour guide, leaving them free to roam to uninhibited.  It worked perfectly as Felicity hacked the main hub…right up until they tried to leave, when another security guard came to challenge Oliver’s ID and demand to know what Felicity was doing in this part of the building.

Oliver opened his mouth to provide a story, but Felicity got there first, jumping in with an outraged statement that neither Oliver nor the guard understood.

Because it was in German.

“Was machen Sie?  Wissen Sie nicht wer ich bin?  Ich bin Doktor Krüger aus Berlin!  Berühren Sie mich nicht!  Mein lieblingsfarben sind rosa und grün und ich mag Schmetterlinge!  Sie sind ein Idiot!  Und hässlich!”

Oliver took advantage of the guard’s total bewilderment, grabbing Felicity’s arm and explaining that she’d gotten lost and he was going to find a translator to help.

Scratching his head, the guard watched them go without further protest.

“What did you say to him?” Oliver asked later, chuckling as they relayed the story to their friends.

She shrugged.  “That I was from Berlin, my favorite colors are pink and green, and I like butterflies.  Oh, and I called him ugly.  Everything sound scary in German if you say it right.”

“Where the hell did you learn German?” Roy asked, howling with laughter.

“I took some classes in high school,” she explained with a grin, flushing when Oliver affectionately tucked a thread of loose hair behind her ear.  “There’s a lot of engineering research written in German.”

“Barbie, I love you.”

* * *

The fourth time, Oliver nearly had a fit.  They were trying to get into the back room of a club to plant bugs, laboring under a hunch that the club was really a cover for a drug-running scheme.

The interesting thing about going undercover was that you could go in with one plan (for instance: that Roy was to crawl through the ventelation shaft and pull Felicity up with him), but at the end of the day, it was all about adapting.

Felicity took one look at the lone bouncer standing by the door to the back hall and figured, “Why crawl through vents when you can waltz through the front door?”

She assumed a drunken stumble and accidentally fell into the guard’s arms.  Oliver, Roy, Diggle, and Sara watched in surprise as she threw her arms around the bouncer’s neck and started making out with him.  He was so thoroughly engaged with Felicity’s lips and tongue that there was amply time for not just Roy, but then Digg, and then Sara to casually stroll through the door behind them.  And then for Sara to come back and drag Oliver through as well, as he was growling and looking ready to blow everything.

Later, as they all celebrated their success, Felicity joked, “It wasn’t so bad.  He was actually kind of cute.”

Oliver just scowled.  Everyone pretended not to notice.

* * *

It was the belly-dancer scheme that really took the cake.  Purely an intel gathering mission, they had infiltrated a restaurant’s staffing, while the members of a mafia family were gathering to celebrate the patriarch’s birthday.

Oliver was sitting in a corner of the restaurant as a patron.  Roy had taken over as a bartender.  Digg was going to walk in and sit down half-way through, and Felicity and Sara were supposed to be waiting and bussing tables.

What no one but Sara knew was that she and Felicity had been shanghaied upon their arrival by the restaurant manager, him assuming that one of them was there to fill in for the entertainment, who had called in last-minute with food-poisoning.

Oliver frowned when he saw only Sara walking the floor, her sharp eyes scanning the party table, mentally filing away details of faces and pecking order.  When Oliver caught her gaze and gave her a questioning look, she could only give him a helpless shrug.  There’d been nothing she could do to prevent it.

Oliver assumed she’d been sent away and was safely waiting in Digg’s van out back, and attempted to focus instead on the family, matching their faces to his mental list of names.

An hour in, the lights dimmed and a veiled exotic dancer stepped onto the floor, the crime family and other patrons turning to watch with pleasure and interest etched on their faces.

Olive ignored the belly-dancer, instead focusing on overhearing the family’s conversation while Sara delivered their drinks.

Oliver frowned when he noticed that Sara wasn’t paying attention.  Her eyes were on the dancer as well.

Oliver turned to look at the blonde dancer, who was cozying up to the birthday boy, her hips gyrating and her stomach rolling erotically to the music.  Then he did a double-take, his mouth going dry when he realized he recognized that blonde.

 _Where_ , Oliver wondered, _in the HELL did she learn to do that?_

(“I took classes with my roommate in college,” she would later explain.  “It’s a ton of fun and really great cardio.  But I’m so rusty!  God, how embarrassing!”

“Felicity,” Roy would say, voice tight, _“No one_ thought you were rusty.)

Least of all the mob boss, who took such a liking to Felicity that when she was done performing, he invited her to join them at his table.  Felicity, sans the veil, but still wearing the red and gold beaded costume, ended up seated on his lap, his hand settled around her bare waist in pleasure.

“She’s fine,” Sara whispered quietly, under the guise of bringing Oliver more water, “you can put the knife down.  She’s convinced them she only speaks Spanish.”

Oliver, who was concentrating on taming the unfortunate hard-on he was still sporting, looked down in surprise to see that he had a white-knuckled grip on his steak knife.  He set it down gently.

It was genius, of course; Felicity ended up with a front row seat to the family’s entire evening, learning which businesses were fronts, who was in charge of what, and that a certain nephew might be a possible weak-link who would be willing to testify in court.

Oliver couldn’t get her out of there and away from those men quickly enough.

“Oliver, my clothes are still in the back!” Felicity protested as he carted her off well into the early hours of the A.M.

“Too bad,” he said, already placing his blazer around her shoulders, possessively shielding her body from the rest of the world.

“So…” Oliver overheard Sara ask Roy, a grin in her voice.

“I already bribed the manager for a copy of the security tape with Felicity’s show on it.”

Oliver shot Roy a withering glare while Felicity started babbling to Digg about not knowing whether she was more hungry or tired.

* * *

Really, though, creativity, the ability to adapt…those things were all well and good, but the most convincing lies will always be the ones engrained with truth.  And Oliver had the market cornered on that particular skill.  
Felicity never really realized it until the night of the “Fox Incident,” as she would later refer to it.

It wasn’t so much an undercover mission as it was a ploy.  An online community had come up with the clever idea that Oliver Queen was the Arrow, and the conspiracy theory had gained sudden viral popularity to the point that Oliver and company could no longer safely ignore it.

So they dressed Digg up as the Arrow and sent him out with Roy to be seen by as many witnesses as possible throughout the night.

Oliver, meanwhile, just had to make sure he had an unquestionable alibi.  The online forum tracked Arrow sitings, so once it was clear he’d been out in public at the same time, the theory would be disproved.

That said, he arranged to attend the opening of a new club, “The Fox Hole,” with Felicity.

It occurred to Felicity when they arrived that while this would make a tight police alibi, it wouldn’t dispel online rumors.

“We’re going to have to draw attention to you,” she shouted into his ear over the music while he guided her to the bar, his hand resting low on her back.  She wished he wouldn’t do that.  It gave her butterflies.

“One step ahead of you.  See that guy?”  He nodded at a man across the bar, and Felicity’s eyes flashed when she saw the man in question drop a tablet into a martini quickly before handing it to a smiling brunette.

“Uh huh,” she said tightly, eyes narrowing.

“Go flirt with him.”

“Ew, no!”

“Felicityyy.  Just do it,” he sighed.

“Fine,” she said, checking her cleavage, to Oliver’s amusement.

“Oh, and Felicity,” he added, sliding his hand down her arm and leaning close to speak to her, causing her face to heat up a little.  “Go big or go home, okay?”

She gave him a suspicious look.  “What are you planning to do?”

“You’ll see,” he winked.

Eyes narrowed, she left him to head for their target, and Oliver leaned across the bar to inform the bartender that the brunette had been drugged, just as Felicity got between her and their man.

Oliver gave it a few minutes, letting the jerk give him the perfect opportunity.  It came quickly.  Sliding his hand onto Felicity’s ass, the guy pulled her into a drunken kiss, which she did her best to pretend she was enjoying.

Not having to fake his menacing glower, Oliver stormed over, grabbed the man’s shoulder and wrenched him off of her, yelling loudly, “GET YOUR HANDS OFF MY GIRLFRIEND!”

“Wait, what?  Listen, bro, if she wants to do whatever she can.  I didn’t know she had a boyfriend.”

“LIKE HELL YOU DIDN’T!”  And Felicity, stunned, saw cell phones being pulled out to film Oliver Queen hauling his fist back to throw a knock-out punch at the creep, who teetered dangerously before crumpling to the floor.

It would have been more than sufficient, but Oliver, never one to do things halfway, cupped Felicity’s shocked face before publicly announcing, “You’ve made your point, baby—don’t leave me.  I love you so much.”

She nearly fainted from the surprise, but apparently her mind was determined to be conscious for when Oliver pulled her into a searing kiss that sent heat flooding her body right down to her toes, the crowd erupting cheers around them when Oliver swept her into his arms and carried her out, phone cameras following them all the way.

He set her down by his bike outside and she had to take a few moments to come back to her senses.  She swatted his arm once he did.

“Ow,” he said unnecessarily, frowning at her.  “What’s that for?”

“One,” she scolded, “ _warn_ me when you’re gonna do something like that.  And two, we were supposed to stay there all night!  What did you carry me off for?”

Wearing a cat-that-ate-the-canary smirk, Oliver stepped closer to her so that she sucked in a breath.  “One,” he teased, mimicking her, “your surprise was half of what sold it.  And two, after that little display?  No one’s going to think I left your side to go fight crime tonight.”  He pulled away, leaving her feeling bereft.  “But just to be safe, I think I’d better take you home with me for the night.”  He straddled his bike and passed her the helmet.  “Trust me,” he added as she took a seat behind him.  “the neighbors will know we’re home.”  Felicity barely had time to let out a surprised gasp before he took off down the road.


	3. If You Tried

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 1: Established Olicity challenged by the rest of team Arrow to keep their hands off of each other for a week. Except Oliver and Felicity make a bet with each other who will crack first. Lots of UST and teasing please!
> 
> Prompt 2: Voyeur Oliver vs. Voyeur Felicity. Who wins?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got these two prompts consecutively and they just went hand in hand so well that I decided to combine them. TA DA!

“Oh for the love of—”

“GODDAMIT!  Again?” Roy groaned, bumping into Digg, who had stopped short on the stairs in the lair.

Felicity and Oliver looked up sheepishly.  Felicity was sitting on her desk with her legs wrapped around Oliver’s waist and her blouse unbuttoned.

Sara arrived next, while Oliver was helping Felicity down, and she embarrassedly straightened her skirt, holding her blouse closed with one hand, Oliver shielding her slightly while he straightened his tie.  “Again?” she said dryly.  “Jeez, are you two ever going to learn to put a sock on the door or something?”

Oliver opened his mouth to reply but Diggle interrupted.

“Please.  Those two have no self-control.  They’re worse than honeymooners.”

“Hey!” Felicity called out, but everyone ignored her.

“You’re all a bunch of children,” Oliver sighed, rubbing his temple tiredly and trying to get his body under control.  It wasn’t helping that two of Felicity’s buttons were still askew.  They were begging to be reopened.

Sara scoffed, pushing past the boys and coming down the stairs.  “We’re the children?  You two are the ones acting like horny teenagers.  I don’t think you could keep your hands off of each other if you tried.”

Felicity snorted.  “Well, Oliver certainly couldn’t.”

He raised an eyebrow at her.  “Oh?”

“I don’t know about that, Felicity,” Diggle said amusedly.  “You don’t know how long Oliver was in love with you before he actually did something about it.  That boy is well practiced in self-deprivation,” he chuckled, coming down to join Sara on the mat.

“Hey,” Oliver said, annoyed.

“I dunno, Digg,” Sara grinned.  “I think he’s more like the rubber-band that snapped.  Felicity, on the other hand, she sits around and watches him in all his sweaty shirtless glory half the day every day and does just fine.”

“Can we talk about anything other than their sex life, please?” Roy groaned, picking up his bow for target practice, while Oliver and Felicity glared at them.

 _“Please,”_ Oliver teased, finally reaching over to fix Felicity’s button.  “We both know you’d snap first.”

She raised an eyebrow at him, amused.  “Right.  Even you’re the one jumping my bones every time I turn the corner,” she joked.

“Is that a challenge, Smoak?” Oliver grinned.

“I’m saying it’s a fact that you couldn’t go one week.”

“Oh, I’m begging you,” Roy chimed in.  “I’m begging you.  One week.  One week of not walking in on you two.  It would be the greatest thing I can imagine.”

“I’d second that!” Digg agreed.

Oliver smirked, leaning in close to Felicity, his lips a breath away.  Hers parted in reaction and he watched her already flushed face turn redder. 

“You’re on, Felicity,” he grinned before pulling away.

“Damn,” she muttered, turning to face her computers.  What had she gotten herself into?

“I give it one day before that self-destructs,” Sara said dubiously.

Diggle chuckled.  “One day?  I give it twelve hours.”

And so began Day One.  At first it wasn’t so bad, but she had to consciously resist touching him in passing.  Little things like touching his arm or his fingers had quickly become habit and she hadn’t realized it.  She had to remind herself not to kiss him goodbye when they left for their respective homes that night.

It wasn’t until she got home that night that she realized Oliver wasn’t planning to fight fair.  Her phone buzzed as she was pulling back the covers to crawl into bed, silently bemoaning the thought of sleeping without his comforting presence beside her.

_»» Bet you really wish I were there right now._

She smirked, looking at her phone and debating whether to give him the satisfaction of replying.  Before she could decide, he sent her another text.

_»»More importantly, I bet you wish I were there with my face buried in your pussy and my fingers inside of you while you cry out for God._

Her face flushed with heat as she read it, and she had to fan herself, moaning in want.  Another message arrived.

_»»All you have to do is say the word, and I’ll be there._

“No,” she told herself firmly.  Taking a deep breath before tapping out her reply.

_»»Actually, I just got off with my vibe.  Forgot how amazing this thing was.  See you at work tomorrow. ;)_

Which was a flat-out lie, of course.  Ten minutes with Oliver was better than ten hours with the best sex toy on the market.  But she knew it would make him crazy to think she was having fun without him like that.

She laid down in bed and hoped that he would cave quickly and they could put an end to this by the same time the next night.

* * *

On Day Two, Oliver arrived at work, with a smirk on his face as he found her at her desk.  He spun the chair around, interrupting the e-mail she was typing and caging her in, leaning close, but not close enough to touch her. 

“Good morning.  Feeling good?”

She faked more bravado than she felt.  “I feel great.  Like I said.  I had a good night.  You?  I bet it was lonely in that apartment all by yourself.”

Oliver studied her, saying nothing, and her heart rate picked up when his eyes dropped to her mouth and he licked his lips.  It was like he knew she was lying.  “Oh fine,” he said finally, “but like I said, it would have been better with you.  How long do the batteries in that vibrator of yours last again?” he smirked, but Felicity could hardly focus on his words.  His aftershave smelled really good.  And he’d shaved this morning, his slight beard trim and soft.  Her hand twitched, itching to rub her palm over the side of his face.  When had those gestures become so natural.  The corners of his mouth twitched.  “That’s what I thought,” he said, before pushing away.

 _Smug son of a bitch,_ Felicity thought, unable to contain the gasp that fell from her lips at his sudden departure.  Well, she thought.  _Two can play at that game, Oliver Queen._

She waited until he was settled well into his daily grind, no longer shooting glances at her through the glass wall (which she refused to return, only caught out of her peripheral…promise.).  Then, she pulled out her phone and sent him a message.

_You know…I have to admit, I have a lot fantasies about you and me on this desk.  Every time I come in here, I can’t help picturing it: You bending me over it and shoving my skirt up, burying yourself inside me._

She paused, pressing her lips together smugly as she hit send, not waiting more than a second to follow it up.

_Just the thought is enough to make a girl wet._

She resisted the urge to look up to see his reaction, instead dropping her phone and returning to work, satisfied with the knowledge that it was probably taking all the self-control he had not to walk in there and take her just like she’d described.

She smiled to herself.  _Round two: Me._

* * *

On Day Three, Oliver worked out on the salmon ladder all night long in front of her.

Enough said.

* * *

Day Four brought with it the revelation that Felicity wasn’t wearing any underwear.

Oliver almost cried.

* * *

Day Five, Sara, Digg, and Roy almost smacked the pair of them over the head.  All three of them had to repeat everything they said to either Oliver or Felicity because neither one of them could concentrate.

“For the love of God!” Roy growled.  “I almost preferred it when you were all over each other.  At least we got shit done!”

“All she has to do is cave in, and this will all be over,” Oliver pointed out.  
Felicity scoffed.  “And live with your insufferable smugness for the rest of my life?  I don’t think so.  But you’re free to come over here and give me a kiss whenever you like.”

* * *

Day Six was a standoff, in which Oliver showed up at Felicity’s house to find her walking around in a short silk nightgown.

“Oliver!” she exclaimed, surprised.  “I was just going to bed.”

“I see that.”

“Admitting defeat?” she asked, a teasing smirk on her face.

“Nope,” he said, feigning innocence.  “I just came over because I miss talking to you.”

“Uh huh,” she said disbelievingly as she allowed him inside.

“Ready to give up yet?  I doubt that vibrator’s still feeling as good as it did at the beginning of the week.”

“Not on your life.”

“Hmm.”

She smirked at him, settling herself onto one of her barstools while he took a seat on the couch across the room.  “And you, Oliver?” she teased.  “Is your hand doing the trick lately or are you here because you know it’s just not as good?”

He didn’t say anything, just gave her that look, the one that said he was laughing at his own private joke.  She wished he wouldn’t look at her like that.  It made her feel like a small furry creature about to be devoured by a wolf, and it was getting her wet.  She could see in his face all the things he was thinking about doing with her…to her.  It was the same look he always got right before his hands and mouth were all over her.

He was so close to snapping she could taste it.  And she swore if he didn’t soon, she was about to go out of her mind.

So she decided a little persuasion was in order.

“I have to admit,” she sighed wearily, “I didn’t think you’d hold out this long.”

Oliver said nothing, his eyes snapping to her hand, which was toying with the strap of her nightdress.

“I mean, I’m starting to think you don’t even miss me,” she said, giving him a hurt expression.  Her hand slipped the strap off her shoulder and the nightdress slid down, and Oliver felt every drop of blood in his body rush south as she cupped her breast, brushing her thumb across her quickly hardening nipple.  “Don’t you miss me, Oliver,” she asked, looking up at him with big doe-eyes.

Oliver was so shocked he didn’t know what to say.

She sighed.  “I guess not.  Well I’ll admit it.  I miss you.  I miss your hands doing this,” she said, grasping her other breast, rolling her nipples through the silk between her fingers.

His eyes darkened as he watched her.  “Oh, go right ahead, Felicity,” he said, leaning back and settling into her couch.  “I’ll just enjoy the show.”

 _Ugh, come on,_ she whined internally.  _Just DO something to me!_ She needed to up her game or she was going to lose her shit.  Acting much, much bolder than she felt, she slowly dragged her right hand down her body and between her thighs, letting her legs slip open slightly.

 _Shit,_ Oliver cursed mentally.  He was a split second away from closing the distance between them and ravaging her on the counter-top behind her.  So he did the only thing he could think of: fought fire with fire.

“That’s perfect,” he told her, grinning.  “Keep going.”

Her mouth parted in surprise when he unbuttoned his jeans and slid a hand inside of them.

“Oh my God,” she whimpered, rubbing at her clit more firmly.  “I hate you right now.”

“Well I love you right now.  You should get rid of the panties.  I’m surprised you’re even wearing any after going commando for the last couple of days.”

Glaring at him, she brought her legs back together and slid the panties down her legs, throwing them at him.  _Obnoxious quick-reflexed freak,_ she thought when he caught them.  She closed her eyes to shut him out, instead focusing on rubbing circles over her clit.  She moaned as she found the perfect pace, a dull ache growing in her thighs.

“Damn it, Felicity,” Oliver hissed, tightening his grip around his cock.

“I’ve had a thought,” she breathed.

“I can see that.”

“No, I—oh, jeez,” she bucked her hips a little, trying to get the right angle. 

“I was thinking, what if we both gave in at the same time.”

“What?” Oliver groaned.

“I mean, you get up off the couch, and I get off the barstool—”

“And we meet in the middle?”

“Nobody loses,” she breathed, watching him stroke himself.

“Everybody wins,” he countered.  “I like it.”

And in the next moment, they were crashing into each other in the middle of the room, Oliver scooping her into his arms and carrying her off into the bedroom.  “We are never doing anything that stupid again,” he told her, kissing her lips soundly.

“Agreed,” she moaned into his mouth.


	4. My Small Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: Oliver discovers a sure-fire way to turn Felicity on and makes sure to keep doing it. (Maybe something unexpected? Like him cracking his neck or saying something in a different language?!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went with Oliver speaking Russian because…well, personally, it gets me pretty hot and bothered, so I can imagine it would for Felicity, too. ;)
> 
> Smut Warning

****

It started out by mistake.  She’d woken up to find him on the sofa taking a business call from Moscow at 1:00 A.M., and she’d curled up next too him on the sofa, sleepily snuggling into him, listening to the soft, deep purr of his voice speaking another language while he wrapped his arm around her, toying with her hair.

When he finally hung up, he’d murmured in her ear in Russian, his mind still in that mode, and began seductively kissing down her neck, muttering all the things he wanted to do to her as she moaned languidly beneath him.

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” she groaned, “but I like the sound of it.”

He smirked, telling her in Russian how beautiful she was.

* * *

The Muscovites were an issue all the next day, and Oliver was on the phone with them almost constantly, and when he got home that night, it was the second time he made love to Felicity while speaking Russian, a devilish smirk on his face while he let her ride his fingers until she climaxed.

* * *

The Pavlovian effect didn’t occur to him at first.  A week later she walked in on him shouting angrily into the phone in Russian, and he didn’t connect the dots when she jumped him in the elevator later that day.

He started to realize it the next time, when he had an Arrow mission requiring interaction with the Bratva, and she had to listen over the communicator.  When he got back in, she announced to the group that she was going home and going to bed before she leaned up on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear, “If you don’t meet me there in ten minutes, I’m starting without you.”

He tested the theory that night, bringing her right to the edge of her climax before ordering her in one sharp, swift, Russian command to come for him.  She’d unravelled, crying out as her body convulsed.

 _Oh_ , Oliver thought, _I’m gonna enjoy this._

* * *

He had always loved Felicity’s name.  He loved saying it, and it suited her so perfectly, so he had never bothered with terms of endearment.  So she looked up in surprise when she passed him something in the office, and he said “Thank you, Солнышко моё.”

He repressed a small smirk when she didn’t say anything about it, only lifted her eyebrow at him.

So he started calling her that all day, watching her squirm slightly, the little quickening of her breath and the slight darkening of her eyes.

She nearly tackled him when they got home.

* * *

And what was knowledge of this kind for, Oliver decided, if not to be abused?  He always kept it professional, of course, when others were in the office, and called her Miss Smoak in public.  But that didn’t stop him from beckoning her over in the middle of a board meeting to mutter in her ear, “When this meeting is over, I’m going to lock us in the break room and fuck you,” in Russian.

She had no idea what he’d said of course, but it didn’t stop the sharp intake of breath as her lips parted in surprise.  She didn’t have to know what it meant.  She could understand by the tone of his voice where it was headed.

* * *

“Oh my God, Oliver!” she cried out, pleading with him, sweat beading on her brow as he sucked on her clit.  “Damn it, _please!”_

He pressed her thighs open wider, his rough hands coarse against her smooth thighs, and she whimpered, hands burying in his hair.

“I can’t, Oliver—I can’t, oh _God!”_ He’d already brought her to orgasm three times that night.  How did he expect her t— “GOD!” she screamed as he slipped two fingers inside of her and curled them against her inner walls.  She was practically sobbing now, her body bowing as a slow, dull feeling of pleasure clawed its way achingly through her body and she convulsed, finally climaxing for the last time.

He let her ride out the waves, pressing soothing, hot kisses across her body, running his hands over her thighs to temper her until she settled to a soft quiver.  He pulled himself up her body and kissed her mouth tenderly, plying her lips with his tongue and stroking hers when she opened to him, her arms wrapping weakly around him.

“I love you, Felicity,” he pulled back to tell her softly, “Солнышко моё.”  He banded his arms around her and rolled them over, pulling her into his side possessively.

She kissed his chest gently, looking at him curiously, “You keep calling me that lately…what does it mean?”

He just smiled at her.  “That’s my little secret.”

She sighed, “I hate mysteries,” she told him grumpily, the effect less-than-intimidating when she laid her head down against his chest, sulking.

“I know,” he grinned.


	5. Hey.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: a situation where felicity tells oliver: "hey that's my boob!!" Thank U for help getting to the season premiere!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any time, guys. ;)

“Oh my God, get your armpit out of my face!” Thea groaned, laughing as Oliver shifted around her.

“Left foot: yellow,” Diggle announced, amused.

“I have had way too much tequila for this,” Roy moaned as they each scrambled to find a yellow space, weaving his leg under Thea’s chest.

“Great,” she grunted.  “Now I’ve got your butt in my face.”

“Hey, you love my butt.”

Giggling, Thea lifted her hand to smack his ass smartly, both of the wobbling dangerously as she did so.”

“Right hand: green.”

“Eep!” Felicity squealed as she ended up arched like a crab with Oliver’s arm reaching over her waist.  “Oh, hurry, Digg.  I can’t hold this for long,” she whined, arms shaking.

Oliver laughed.  “You need more stamina, Felicity,” he teased, and she stuck her tongue out at him.

“Roy, stop wiggling your ass at me!” Thea laughed loudly as Digg called out another color and they all tried to move, Oliver stretching, trying to see over Roy’s shoulder to find a green spot for his hand.

“Hey,” Felicity grunted.

“I’m not wiggling my ass.”

“You so are.”

“I don’t complain when your ass is in my face,” Roy smirked.

“Hey,” Felicity repeated.

“What?” Oliver torqued around to glare at Roy, losing focus on what he was doing.

Thea snorted while Felicity attempted again.  “Hey!”

“Can we stop talking about Roy’s ass?” Diggle asked.

“It’s my birthday.  I’ll talk about whoever’s ass I want,” Thea asserted.

“HEY!” Felicity shouted and everyone craned to look in her direction.  “That’s my boob,” she said dryly, giving Oliver a pointed look.  He glanced down, surprised to find his hand resting on her breast.  “So unless you’re planning to move that hand any lower, GET IT OFF!”

Diggle, Roy, and Thea dissolved into surprised laughter, the entire ensemble collapsing as Oliver attempted to shift away from Felicity’s boob.


	6. Say Yes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: Felicity has to go undercover for a mission as a high-class call girl and needs to pick out lingerie so she asks Sara for help in picking something out. But Sara tricks Oliver into going instead and he gets the surprise of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oliver internally struggling with not sexing up Felicity is my favorite kind of Oliver.

_“Sara, this is just not my area of expertise,”_ Felicity said over the phone.  _“It’s not that I don’t think I have sex appeal—”_

“You do.”

_“—Thanks.  It’s not that that.  It’s just that I don’t try to be ‘sexy.’  I buy cute panties, not seductive ones.  I still don’t see why you can’t be the hooker.”_

“First, because the target knows my face from our last run-in.  He doesn’t know you.  And second, you’re a call girl, not a hooker.”

 _“Same thing!”_ Felicity protested.

“One’s _much_ classier,” Sara teased, spotting Oliver on his way up from Verdant’s basement as she spoke.

 _“Please, Sara.  If you don’t help, I’ll end up with dancing panda underwear.”_  
Sara laughed.  “We can’t have that.  But I’ve got plans tonight, girl.  I don’t know how much time I’ll h—”

 _“Please please please!”_ Felicity begged.

“Oh, all right.  I’ll stop by beforehand and give you some help, okay?”

 _“Oh thank you!”_ she groaned in relief. _“I’m just gonna grab a bunch of stuff and try it on later then, and you can tell me what doesn’t suck.”_

“Sounds good,” Sara laughed.  “See you then.”

“What was that about?” Oliver asked, frowning as Sara hung up.

“Felicity’s a little freaked,” Sara replied, smiling indulgently.  “I promised I’d come over and help.”

“Don’t you have family dinner tonight?”

“Yeah, but I can swing by Felicity’s for ten minutes, I think.”

“You go to dinner,” Oliver told her, “I can stop over and talk to Felicity.  I’m sure i can calm her down.”

“Actually, she—” Sara stopped, a lightbulb going off in her head.  “Actually, that’d be great.  She’ll feel better talking to you anyway, since you’re the one who’s in charge of getting her out at the end of the night.  Thanks, Ollie.”  She beamed, and Oliver didn’t notice the smirk toying with her mouth.

Felicity stared in the mirror at her black & white lace ensemble.  She’d thought it best to stick with something classic-looking, not that she’d really known what she was doing.  And a hot pink corset had been calling her name.  

But this wasn’t so bad: cheeky black silk boy shorts with white lace trim, and a matching midriff brassiere with hooks down the middle.  She just didn’t really feel like herself in it.

The doorbell rang and she headed for the door, pulling her hair into a ponytail as she went.  “Hey, Sara,” she called through the door.  “Okay, tell the truth: Would you pay money to sleep with—OLIVER OH MY GOD!”  She crossed her arms in an attempt to cover herself while Oliver stared at her in shock, a brown grocery bag in his hand.

“I…um…brought ice cream?” he said lamely.

“Why aren’t you Sara?” she demanded.

“She…had to get to a family dinner.  So she sent me.  And by the way, I think I can speak for all men when I say: Yes, I would pay big money to sleep with you.”

 _“Oliver!”_ she rolled her eyes, blushing crimson as she let him in.  “Just let me grab my robe,” she sighed, embarrassed and wishing he would have the decency to cover his eyes.

Oliver nodded, still unable to tear his eyes away from her as he felt the blood in his body rush south.

“Oliver!”  She snapped her fingers in his face and he blinked.  “I’m up here!”

He didn’t lift his gaze.  “Sure you are.”

Rolling her eyes again, she stormed upstairs to find a robe.  “I don’t think I can do this, Oliver.  I feel ridiculous.”

He frowned, dropping the ice cream off on her countertop before following her up to her room.  “What do you mean?”

“I mean this guy’s gonna see right through me.  I don’t know what I’m doing,” she tied the belt on the robe and looked up at him insecurely.

“All you have to do is get him to take you to his room.  We’ll handle it from there,” Oliver assured her.

“What am I supposed to do?” she threw her hands up in exasperation. 

“Seduce him with my awkwardness?”

Oliver smiled.  If she only knew.  “Felicity,” he said, unconsciously moving closer.  “Seduction is all about confidence.  You don’t have to do anything except convince yourself that he should want you.  And he will.”

“I have no idea how to do that.”

He shook his head.  “Embrace the fact that anyone would be lucky to touch you,” he rested a hand gently on her hip and she felt butterflies flutter to life in her stomach.  When did he get so close?  “He’ll come to you.  You’ll exchange a few words.  Hi.  How are you.  Want a drink.  Yes.  You’re job is to say ‘yes.’  Yes to a drink.  Yes, I’d like to go upstairs.  Yes I want you to kiss me—” he couldn’t help glancing at her lips as he said it.  “Yes, I want you to undress me.”  His eyes flickered back up to hers, and he saw they had darkened and her breathing had gotten shallow.  “And before he can do that, I’ll come get you.”

Felicity nodded, pressing her lips together.  “But…what happens if you don’t?”

“I will,” he promised firmly.  “I would crawl over cut glass before I let anyone see what’s underneath that lingerie,’ he teased quietly, squeezing her hip lightly.  He needed to back away; he knew it.  But his body didn’t seem to be taking orders at the moment.

“Oliver?”

He wanted to kiss her.  Softly…gently…press his lips against hers and taste her.  Her eyes would close and then he would kiss her again and untie this stupid robe and wrap her legs around his waist and press her against the wall, and—

But he didn’t.  The moment passed and he couldn’t help hating himself for it.  _Don’t be rash,_ he told himself strictly.

She was searching his face, looking anxious and confused.  She’d noticed it too.

So he reached up and smoothed a loose strand of hair behind her ear before stepping away.  “I think we should go eat that ice cream before it melts,” he said gently, and she nodded, sighing as she followed him back downstairs and wondering if she’d imagined it all.


	7. Since Then

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: An old flame of Oliver's threatens to release a sex tape but Felicity tracks it down before it gets circulated. Then she can't help herself and watches it, only for Oliver to walk in on her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut warning.

Felicity bit her lip, her fingers hovering indecisively over the track pad.  All it was going to take was one little click, and the tape would be lost forever.

Which, of course, was what she had intended to do when she hacked into Oliver’s ex-girlfriend’s operating system.  It was one of those things, she supposed, that always came back to haunt people.  Never, she thought dryly, film yourself having sex.  Or naked in general.  It can only lead to bad things.

Like crazy ex-girlfriends from before the island trying to blackmail you.

So of course Felicity was going to delete it.  Right now.  Right…now.

Her finger clicked a button and the video file started to play.  She was just making sure it was the correct file, she told herself.  That was all.  Completely innocent and in the dark by herself.  Oliver would not have to know that she’d seen any of it, whether it was 5 seconds or the whole half hour.

“Oh…my…God,” she whispered at the sight of Oliver and the girl, both completely naked.  Oliver looked different…younger, of course, and his hair was longer.  The striking thing, at first, was the lack of scars and tattoos that she had grown so accustomed to seeing when he worked out.  He was fit, but not as lean, not nearly as defined as he was now.  But there were some things that time couldn’t change.  “Like the size of his—Holy shit!” her hand flew up to cover her mouth as the couple turned and the girl started to swallow Oliver’s cock.

“Oh holy shit holy shit holy shit,” her hands fumbled for the keyboard as she pressed her thighs tightly together, trying to forget what she’d just seen.  As she attempted to hit delete, though, the door to the lair opened and she let out a yelp of surprise, her hand slipping to the volume instead.

Before she could stop it, the sound of a younger Oliver’s voice filled the room, “That’s right—suck me, baby.  I’m gonna fuck you ‘til you forget your name.”

Her hand slammed down on the delete button and the file vanished from the universe permanently, and Felicity sat frozen.  _Please anyone but that.  Anyone but that.  Don’t be—_

“Felicity?” Oliver’s voice asked, and she let out a miserable gasp, wishing the ground would swallow her whole.

“Mmhmm?” she squeaked, not turning to look at him.

“What was…what are you doing?”

“I was just…there was this video.  And an e-mail.  Well the e-mail came first actually.  I intercepted it because I always monitor anything with threatening language and this was really threatening.  In like an overtly sexual way, I might add.  Not that I would read your e-mails just because they’re sexy.  I mean they have sexy language.  Obviously whoever you want to sext or not sext is totally your business and not mine.  But this was scary sexy so I investigated and she really did have a video so I was going to delete it and you would never have to know and then I was like, ‘Well how am I gonna know if this is the right video unless I check?’  And it was definitely the right video and then you walked in and I’m gonna just die now.”

She sank back into her seat, eyes still closed in horror.

Oliver sighed, rubbing his hand over his face.  “Let me try to decipher that,” he said, walking over to her.  “One of my exes—and I think I can guess which one, since there’s only one who ever taped us (without my permission, I’d like to add)—threatened to release a sex video of me.  Which you just…watched?” he quirked an eyebrow at her.

“Only the first five seconds!” she rushed to explain as Oliver appeared next to her, looking over her shoulder at the screen.  Her body, already hot with embarrassment, lit on fire at the realization that he was inches away, and she couldn’t help the brief flicker of her gaze to the crotch of his pants, unable to block the image in her mind of how big he was.  Because now she knew.  It wasn’t just accidental imaginings.  “I just deleted it, promise.”

To her surprise, Oliver smirked.  “Good.  I’ll have to do a sweep of her apartment later to make sure she didn’t have a hard-copy.  She probably doesn’t though.  She’s a bit dim.  Felicity?”

“Mmhmm?” she squeaked, voice strained.

“Just for the record, I’ve learned a lot since then.”  He winked, and she gasped as he walked out. 


	8. Amateur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: Established Olicity. Oliver secretly takes coding lessons and learns how to imbed his proposal into a project she's working on. She gets pissed until she realizes what it is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sparse on detail because as much as I wish I did, I know NOTHING about coding.

“What is this?” Felicity yelled suddenly.  “What the—who the hell broke into my system?  I don’t…unbelievable,” she groused, glaring and leaning forward in her seat, her fingers flying furiously across the keys, clicking loudly and causing the rest of the team to look up in concern.

“Felicity?” Roy asked tentatively, while Oliver took a swig of water to hide his smile.

“Everything okay?” Diggle asked, concerned.

“Someone—and I don’t know who, or how—but someone got into this software I’ve been working on and embedded a stupid riddle.”

“A riddle?”

“Uh huh.  Well, at least I think it is, I’ve got the first word and the question mark at the end.  But it has all the trademarks of a hacker prank.”

“So it’s not vindictive then?” Diggle asked.  “Just someone’s idea of a joke?”

“It’s not the motive that bothers me; and it looks like this was a real amateur…” she trailed off briefly, her fingers still firing away rapidly as she unlocked the code to see what was going on.  “It’s that anyone, especially an amateur, could get into my system!  I mean, unless one of you sat down at my computer with my passwords…it should be virtually impossible.  I must have left a backdoor.  This is—” she stopped as her computer made a little chiming noise and five words appeared on her screen.

»»WILL YOU MARRY ME? —OLIVER««

Her mouth dropped open as Oliver walked around behind her desk to look over her shoulder.  “I resent the amateur comment, you know.  I mean, I had to take two months of classes to figure out how to do that.”


	9. Coffee Notes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: Oliver takes Felicity to a wine making class for her birthday. They end up getting drunk and messy ;) (I just really love red wine. I blame the wine for this)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, my dear Anon, I have a confession. As you (probably) know, I love wine. Very much. Very very much. But I’ve never been to a wine-making class. Only wine tastings. And try as I might, I couldn’t find any really decent descriptions of a winemaking class online. So I decided (for brevity’s sake) to make this a wine tasting instead. With, let’s be honest, probably the same results either way.

“Stop giggling.”

“I can’t help it…he’s so pretentious,” Felicity said through another burst of giggles, trying to stifle her voice to a whisper.

She was referring to one of the men sitting at their table.  Oliver had taken her to a wine-tasting class for her birthday, and they had sat down at a table with two other couples.  About 9 wines into the 10 they were tasting, Felicity was finding it difficult to conceal her opinions about the lawyer sitting across from them, who apparently attended these weekly wine classes with his fiancé on a regular basis.  He was remarkably full of himself.  Which Felicity was finding more and more amusing the more wine she had.

“Felicity, get it together,” Oliver whispered, unable to help chuckling.  The man in question was on his way back from the restroom.  She was so tipsy she was about to fall off of her barstool, so he reached out and put a steadying arm around her waist.

“I’ll get it together if he gets it together,” she whispered.

“Shhh,” someone from another table hissed at them.  The host was discussing where on the tongue you would taste the difference between sweet wines and fruity wines.

“I think you’ll enjoy this next pinotage folks.  The incredible thing is that when I first sampled it, I thought it had been infused with coffee, but it has to do with being grown in soil with the coffee beans.  You’ll get some of that on the nose and a lot of it in the finish, but I want you to really try to taste the banana and cherry flavors mingling with it—”

“Oh my God it does taste like coffee,” Felicity said in surprise, sampling.  “Wait, Oliver you can’t have it!” she declared, snatching his glass from him before he could taste it.

“Hey!” he said, confused but laughing.  The wine was definitely going to his head as well.

“No coffee for you, mister,” she told him, downing his wine before he had a chance and smacking her lips in satisfaction.

Oliver looked at her stained lips and found himself thinking about the fact that if he kissed them right now, they would taste very distinctly like wine.

“And that’s it for this evening, folks,” the host was announcing minutes later, trying to talk over the loud chatter of the room.  “If you’ve kept track of your favorites, you’re more than welcome to come to the counter and purchase a few bottles to bring home for yourself.”

Temporarily leaving her, Oliver rose to go make a purchase, and met her to walk her out the door and into the cold winter evening.  “Here you go,” he said, presenting her with a bottle, “Happy birthday, Felicity.”

She opened the brown bag and laughed delightedly when she saw that he’d purchased the pinotage for her.  Unthinkingly, she threw her arms around his neck and planted a sloppy kiss on his cheek.  “Best birthday ever,” she confirmed.

Oliver froze in surprise at the intimate gesture, and—later he would blame it on the wine—wrapped his arm around her waist to kiss her mouth, which, he was pleased to find, still tasted like pinotage.

“You really can taste the coffee notes,” he grinned at her surprised face while snow started to flurry around them.


	10. All About Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt 1: Your commentary on 50 Shades is hilarious and so true. So that inspired this prompt. How about Felicity reads 50 Shades of Grey and thinks it's ridiculous, and Oliver agrees but thinks just a teeny bit of dominance can be fun and proves it to Felicity.
> 
> prompt 2: Oliver and Felicity are watching TV together and see the 50 Shades of Grey trailer. He has never heard of the books. Did she read them. hmmmm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for my commentary on 50 Shades, go here:
> 
> http://bringcakesandale.blogspot.com/2014/07/rachel-reads-fifty-shades-of-grey.html
> 
> SMUT (and very minimal Sub/Dom vibe) WARNING FOR THIS CHAPTER

Felicity and Oliver stared at the TV screen, Oliver with a somewhat bemused expression and Felicity with a somewhat annoyed one.  “Crazy in Love” was playing in the background.  They had been enjoying an afternoon off, letting one of Felicity’s shows play while barely paying attention, mostly just cuddling.

“Ugh!” Felicity grunted, throwing a popcorn kernel at the TV screen as the trailer got raunchier and Oliver’s mouth fell open slightly.

“What was that about?” Oliver asked interestedly, wondering why a movie trailer evoked such a dramatic response.

She huffed.  “I can’t believe they’re making a movie out of that stupid book.”

“Book?”

“Oh my God, you missed the _Fifty Shades of Grey_ phenomenon, too?  God you lucky sunnuvabitch,” she grumbled.

“Fifty shades of…what?”

“It’s this stupid smutty romance novel that’s disturbingly popular.”

“What’s so bad about it?” Oliver asked confusedly, turning off the TV to better hear her.  He didn’t exactly read romance novels himself, but he didn’t see why it would bother Felicity if they made a movie about one.  “It looked kind of kinky,” he smirked.

She snorted, shoving at his chest playfully.  “Kinky isn’t the word you’re looking for.  It’s about this BDSM relationship…which admittedly, I wasn’t really sure I was gonna be into.  The book kind of turned me off of it.  The whole thing was so rape-y and nonconsensual.  It really just glamorized the main character’s abuse by calling it her ‘sexual awakening’,” she used air quotes to emphasize her disdain.

Oliver studied her.  “You know that’s not…what BDSM is _supposed_ to be like, right?”

She raised a dubious eyebrow at him, and he pushed up from the couch to go get a glass of water, avoiding her scrutiny.  So she climbed up on her knees to face him over the back of the couch.  “Oliver Queen…do you have some experience in that regard?” she teased.

He shrugged.  “I mean…I experimented a lot when I was younger.  Nothing major, but some of it can be kinda sexy,” he filled his glass with ice at the fridge before turning to the faucet and looking at her curious face.

“Honestly?” she said, “it just seemed really scary in the books.”

He lifted an eyebrow.  “That was a crap book, then.  It shouldn’t be scary.  That’s like, rule number one.  Safe…sane…consensual.  Those are the big keys,” he took a swig of water.

“You’re serious.”

“As the grave.”  He winked at her.  Seeing that she still looked intrigued and confused, he took another sip, studying her.  “I mean…I never got into anything major with it.  I wasn’t into all the whips and chains and—”

“Leather?” she suggested wryly, a twinkle of laughter in her eyes.

He smirked.  “I just mean I’m not overboard into toys.  But the dominance,” he leveled her with a disconcerting look that had a little shiver running down her spine, “that part can be fun.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Well I’m not gonna lie, _Miss Smoak,_ I get a little turned on when you call me Mr. Queen in the office,” he teased.

Her lips parted in surprise, so Oliver set the glass down and walked over to her, the couch between them.  He softly slid his hands down her arms, which were braced on the back of the couch, before reaching her wrists and holding them firmly in place.

“It’s very erotic,” he told her leaning close so that she could feel the heat of his breath and smell his cologne, “to give up complete control to someone else.  To _have_ complete control over someone else….”  His eyes flickered to her lips and she leaned forward to kiss him but he pulled back slightly just out of her reach.  She gave him a frustrated look.  “Stay still, Felicity,” he instructed her.

She didn’t move.  She waited for him to kiss her, but he didn’t, he just studied her, smirking, holding her wrists down so she couldn’t reach up for him.  She found herself flushing with anticipation as he held back, his lips so close she could practically taste them.  She pressed her legs together subtly as she found herself aching with the need to kiss him.  She wasn’t used to not getting to kiss him when she wanted to.  Finally, he closed the distance, moving his lips warmly over hers, breathing into her as he languidly slid his tongue into her mouth and stroking hers evocatively before drawing back much too soon and gently biting her lip.

She tried to lift her hands to pull him back but his grip tightened slightly, not allowing it.

“No,” he said firmly, the corner of his lips twitching at the pout that settled on her face.  “That’s an important word, you know,” he added, licking his lips in front of her.  Her eyes followed the movement.  “I say no, you stop.  You say no, and I stop.”  He waited until she met his eyes to make sure she understood.  She nodded slightly and he kissed her again, more heatedly this time, releasing one of her hands to bury his in her hair and tug on it slightly, tilting her head back to allow him to deepen the kiss.  He grunted when her body surged forward, breasts pushing against him.

He stepped back, releasing her.  Felicity felt her heart rate pick up as he studied her.  Was this how the antelope saw the lion?  He looked like he was planning to devour her, and the thought sent a surge of heat down her body, arousal pooling low in her body as she wondered what he would do next.

“Unbutton your blouse,” he told her.  So she reached up and began slowly slipping the buttons open, letting her top fall open as she went.  “Now take it off,” he told her, and she met his eyes, thrilling out how dark his look.  She was starting to feel very wanton.  She slid it off her shoulders and let it float to the floor at the foot of the sofa.  Oliver’s focus was on her breasts, cupped in her light pink, frilly bra.  “The bra, too,” he said.  So she unhooked it, flushing as he looked at her in approval.  “I want you to play with your breasts, Felicity,” he informed her.  “And only your breasts.  You can’t touch anything else.”

One of her eyebrows curved upward slightly as she hesitated.  She started to give him a teasing remark, but he interrupted her.

“Now,” he said sharply.

Biting her lip slightly, she lifted her hands and softly cupped her breasts, massaging them gently.  She rolled her nipples between her fingers and pinched them slightly, moaning slightly in pleasure.

“Good,” he said.  “Keep going.”  If she hadn’t been able to see that his his breathing was  growing heavier, she almost would have thought he was totally unaffected.  She squirmed slightly, lowering herself to sit back on her heels, but he stopped her.  “I can’t see you if you do that.  I want to watch this,” he warned her, so she rose up on her knees again, moaning with impatience as she felt herself growing wet, an ache settling in her thighs as she continued teasing her breasts.  She kept expecting him to join her, but instead he walked back over to the kitchen island to take another sip of his water, leaning against the countertop to watch her, his cock hardening as her pleasure intensified.

 _“Oliver,”_ she whined softly.  When was he going to end this?

“Don’t stop,” he instructed her, and she whimpered.

She pinched her nipples harder, her hips rocking helplessly, looking for friction that wasn’t there.  Her head fell back and she moaned needily.  “Oliver… _please_.  God.”  She grasped her breasts tightly, trying to create the sensation she needed as the ache in her belly grew sharper, more insistent.  “I need you,” she begged him.

“Soon,” he said simply.  “Not yet.”

“Oh _God_ ,”  she groaned, the pitch of her voice changing as she flicked her thumbs over and over her hardened peaks.  She was…God, she was actually going to…”OH GOD!” she cried desperately as her body quaked and she sobbed out an orgasm, her body crumpling limply as it slowly clawed its way through her.

Oliver walked around the couch then and grabbed her face, kissing her hard.  “You’re fucking incredible…have I ever told you that?” he asked.  Felicity could hardly breathe.  She hadn’t even known she could do that.

Suddenly rough, Oliver tugged her forward, grasping at the skirt on her hips and yanking the zipper down, tearing it off of her.  Felicity gasped from his coarseness, and she gripped his arms in surprise when he shoved his hand between her thighs, palming her through her soaking panties.  She moaned and ground against his hand, but as soon as she did, he withdrew the pressure.  She dropped her forehead to his shoulder in frustration.  _“Oliver,”_ she whined.

“Stand up,” he told her, tugging her forward lightly and kicking the coffee table back slightly as he did.  He kissed her softly once she was standing in front of him, dragging his mouth from her lips and down her throat sensually.  He trailed between her breasts and down her belly before reaching her panties, nipping gently at her hipbone before snaring them in his teeth and tugging them down her legs.  He grasped her hips harshly and tugged them apart slightly so he could see her slick pussy.  “I bet you’d like me to touch you,” he said, his breath skittering across her core.  “Wouldn’t you?”

He looked up at her and a thrill rushed over as she realized how much he was enjoying toying with her.

“Felicity.”

She nodded, but he didn’t reply, just waited expectantly.  “Yes,” she breathed.

He smirked.  “What do you want me to do?”

“I—” she hesitated.  “I want you to eat me out,” she begged shakily.

He dipped his mouth dangerously close, but then stopped.  “I don’t think so.  I want you to get a taste first.”  So he drug a single finger along her slit, just barely dipping tantalizingly inside of her before lightly flicking across her clit.  She cried out in surprise as the sensation disappeared far too quickly.

He stood again and pressed his finger against her lips.  “Suck,” he demanded, and she closed her lips around his finger, sucking tightly on it, her tongue lapping against it, and Oliver’s eyes closed, groaning in response.  “Damn, Felicity,” he muttered.  She hummed around his finger and he pulled his hand away to tug his shirt over his head.  Grabbing her hand he pressed it against the bulge in his jeans and growled lowly.  “This is what’s going to be inside of you soon,” he promised.

“Oliver,” she pleaded, pressing her palm against his erection.  He yanked her hand away, grabbing her other wrist and bringing them around behind her back, holding them in place with his left hand while he brought his right hand forward to rub firm circles against her clit.  She cried out, bucking into his hand.

“Don’t you dare fucking come until I say you can, Felicity,” he warned her sharply.  “Not one second sooner than I give you permission.”

She nodded, whimpering.

“Tell me you want me.”

“I want you,” she panted.

“Tell me you want me to fuck you.”

“I want you to fuck me, Oliver, please,” she begged.

“Say you want me to let you come.”  He slid his fingers forward and slipped them inside of her, watching her head fall back as she groaned.  “Say it, Felicity.”

“I want to come.”

“No,” he said sharply.  “Say you want me to let you come.”

“I…oh fuck, I want you to let me come,” she ground out desperately as he fucked his fingers in and out of her, stretching her walls deliciously.

“Beg me.”

 _“Please!”_ she cried out.

“More.”  He could feel his tightly wound control slipping.  Even if she refused to beg, he’d still be burying himself inside of her within seconds

_“Please, Oliver, please.  I’m begging you.”_

“Please, who?” he demanded.

“I—oh, OH!” she moaned as his palm rubbed against her clit at a harsher angle.

“Who, Felicity?”

“Please, _Mr. Queen,_ let me come!” she cried out desperately while he held her wrists tightly behind her back, her breasts brushing against his chest while she rode his hand.

He leaned forward and gently bit her ear, changing the angle of his hand and curling his fingers inside of her, the heel of his palm pressing hard against her clit.  “Now you may come,” he whispered harshly into against her ear and her body shuddered as orgasm tore through her, so much sharper than the last one as she ground against his hand.  “Felicity,” he muttered as she shuddered in his arms, hardly able to stay standing, “I love you, and I’m going to fuck you until you can’t think straight anymore.  Unless,” he tugged at her earlobe gently with his teeth, “you tell me stop.”  He said it as a gentle reminder that she still had control over the situation.

She moaned, falling against him as he finally let go of her hands.  She grabbed the back of his head and pulled him into a kiss.  “You say that like I can think straight _now,”_ she teased lightly against his lips, and he smiled.

“Oh, Felicity,” he said, turning her to face the couch and bending her forward.  “You have _no_ idea what I’m capable of,” he warned her, unzipping his jeans and freeing his cock while his other hand gently massaged her ass.  He perched himself at her entrance for only a second before sinking into her hard.  She cried out in relief as he filled her, and she grabbed at the couch pillows for purchase.  Without waiting for her to relax around him, he drew back again and slammed into her, picking up pace and fucking her harder than she was used to from him.  He gripped her hips forcefully as thrust deep inside of her before smacking her ass playfully, the light sting making her cry out in surprise, a rush of arousal flooding her.  It hadn’t been hard enough to hurt, just enough to mingle the sensations together, and he soothed the soft flesh immediately with a tender gesture.  Then he raised his hand and slapped the other side of her ass with the same pressure, groaning when her small feminine cry of pleasure filled the air.  “God I love that sound,” he told her, smacking her one more time before massaging the spot again.  He groaned as he pounded into her, trying to hold back.  He wanted to make her come one more time before he exploded.  “Felicity, touch yourself.”

Felicity thought he was crazy.  She could barely breathe.

“Do it,” he commanded.

Shakily, she shifted her balance and reached down to rub circles into her clit, crying out sharply as the added pressure shot through her body and Oliver continued thrusting inside of her, his cock hitting her innermost wall with each penetration.

“Fuck, Felicity,” he panted.  “Come on, one more time,” he grabbed her ass, squeezing tightly as he felt himself unraveling.

She cried out as she felt herself climbing, this orgasm’s sensation just as different as the last two.

 _“Felicity!”_ Oliver growled, and the sound of her name like that sent her tumbling over the edge.  She collapsed forward, Oliver’s hands holding her back as he pounded into her, riding the ways of her orgasm before finally spilling inside of her.  Before she knew it, she was being laid back on the sofa while Oliver gently climbed over her, kissing every inch of her skin tenderly.

“That was…” she breathed.

“Good?”

“Way good,” she confirmed.

“Told you,” he said smugly.  “Letting go of control now and again is a very good thing.”

She swatted his shoulder, obviously amused.  “Mmhmm, but next time, _Mr. Queen,”_ she warned.  “I get to boss you around.”

He wiggled his eyebrows at her, making her laugh.  “I look forward to it.”


	11. Not the Reaction He Intended

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: Oliver keeps ruining Felicity's underwear and promising to buy her new ones. So he sends her a huge box filled with dark green underwear. Instead Felicity tells him that she's decided to not wear any anymore.

“Damn it, Oliver!” Felicity had yelled at him.  _“Again?”  I_ rritated, she held up a pair of what had once been lacy panties.  “Let me just go add this to the graveyard of undergarments you’ve destroyed in the last month.”

“I’ll buy you new ones,” Oliver had said with an absolute lack of contrition, sucking a trail down her neck.

“That’s what you said the last _ten_ times,” Felicity had whined.  She’d been determined not to let this go.  “I’ve got a pile off shredded stockings, torn underwear, and broken bras to prove it.”

Unfortunately for her, ‘grumpy’ was just another side of her that Oliver found irresistible, so she had been unable to distract him from his mission. 

Not that she had had much to complain about within a matter of seconds.

The next day, however, he’d very smugly recalled their conversation and gone online to order a gift for her online.  Knowing she’d just flip out at him again—which, he had to admit, was one of his favorite pass times—he’d sent her a giftbox filled to the brim with an assortment of green underwear.  Silk, cotton, lace…thong, boyshorts, bikini-style, everything he could find.

He’d expected to find her glowering at him when he found her at work.  But instead he’d found her looking chipper, going about business as usual.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he said, smirking as he wrapped his arms around her from behind.  “Did you get my package?”

“Oh, I got it.”

“And?”

She slipped out of his arms to grab a small stack of papers at the end of her desk.  “And I don’t think I really have much use for it.”

He raised an amused eyebrow at her.  “Really?  After the fuss you put up the other night?”  This was not the reaction he’d been expecting.

She straightened the papers and started heading for the copy room, not looking back as she explained calmly, “I’ve decided to stop wearing underwear.”

Oliver’s mouth fell open.


	12. Not Prepared For This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: can you do a body swap one??

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because whenever people do body-swaps, everyone conveniently ignores ONE LITTLE DETAIL!

“DIGGLE YOU WILL FIND THAT WOMAN AND FIX THIS!” Felicity shouted over the comm.

_“I’m sorry, Oliver—I mean Felicity—Roy and I are trying, but…Zatanna vanished clear off the map.”_

Felicity sat down and started crying, only, she was doing it in Oliver’s body, which made it ten times more awkward for Oliver, who was still trying to understand how women even dealt with wearing bras.  The high heels he had given up on immediately, and he was currently pacing the floor of the lair in Felicity’s stocking feet.

“Don’t cry,” he told her calmly.  “They’ll find her.  Or maybe this will wear off.  We don’t know.”

“Don’t you give me that!” she yelled with his voice and he cringed, ducking when she tossed a stapler in his direction.  “ _You’re_ the one who pissed off the magic lady!  You don’t understand what I’m going through!”

“Um…not to be harsh, but—” he gestured up and down himself in her body, “—I think I kinda do.”

“NO!” she groaned, dropping her head to her desk dramatically and sobbing.  “I have to _pee_.  I am _not_ prepared to deal with that.”

Staring at her grimly, Oliver tapped the comm link in his ear.  “Roy,” he deadpanned, “tell me you’ve found Zatanna.”


	13. Where It Doesn't Hurt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt:"What do you want me to kiss next?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus points if you know what movie inspired this. It’s one of my favorites!

“Ow…ow…will you—OW!  _Jeez, Felicity!”_ Oliver swore harshly, pushing Felicity away from him.

“Well damn it Oliver, where doesn’t it hurt?” she demanded, hands finding her hips and looking at him with an exasperated expression.  He’d been gone for a week and she’d missed him.  Could she help it if his first night back he’d managed to come home bruised and bloodied and sore from a particularly nasty night beneath the hood?

Sarcastically, Oliver examined himself before pointing sardonically at his elbow.

Quirking an eyebrow at him, Felicity leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his elbow, meeting his eyes when she pulled back.

Softening, Oliver repressed the smile that threatened his mouth in response.  Trying to be offhanded, he pointed at the palm of his hand, muttering, “This doesn’t hurt too badly either….”

As he trailed off, she took hold of his hand and pressed a seductive kiss to the palm of his hand, lingering before drawing back and looking at him expectantly.

Oliver waved vaguely at at the side of his neck.  “Here….”  She didn’t wait, pulling him closer so she could lift slightly onto her tiptoes and press her lips against the base of his throat, and Oliver closed his eyes as he felt her tongue dart out slightly to taste his skin.  He’d missed her so much while he was gone.

Failing utterly to stop the twitching at the corner of his mouth as he did so, Oliver tapped his mouth briskly in indication, and Felicity grinned, gently cupping the sides of his face so that she could kiss his lips.  She felt his breath hike as she did so, sucking on his bottom lip as she pulled back and looked up at him innocently.

“What do you want me to kiss next?”


	14. Fixation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: 5 times Felicity eats something phallic in front of Oliver, 1 time she eats him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I totally forgot that Felicity’s allergic to peanuts. When I come up with a suitable substitute, I’ll change it. Until then…AU FIC WHERE FELICITY ISN’T ALLERGIC TO PEANUTS WOO GO CRAZY.
> 
> ETA: I'm changing it to nutella and we're pretending that she's only allergic to peanuts, not tree nuts, but shhh I know that's not true either I just don't care enough. SO AU FIC WHERE FELICITY ISN'T ALLERGIC TO TREE NUTS EITHER WOO GO CRAZY
> 
> ALSO SMUT WARNING BUT IF YOU DIDN'T GET THAT FROM THE PROMPT THEN THERE IS REALLY NOT MUCH HOPE FOR YOU AND I'M NOT SORRY ANYMORE

The pens he was used to.  Ninety percent of the time he was able to successfully ignore  it when Felicity had the tip of her pen between her teeth.

But oh, that ten percent.  It was really a terrible habit of hers, Oliver thought distractedly one day as she sat at the end of the boardroom table, sucking absent-mindedly on the cap of her highlighter while tapping out a few notes on her tablet.

He wished she wouldn’t do that in front of other people.  He’d already caught one of the other board members staring at her mouth.  And Oliver understood the distraction.  He really did.  But it didn’t mean it didn’t piss him off royally to see them ogling her that way.  He was about ready to make that highlighter disappear somewhere entirely unfortunate when she finally got distracted by someone’s question for her and the pen fell from her mouth.

Oliver leaned back in his seat and released a breath of tension he hadn’t known he was holding.

But unfortunately it didn’t stop with pens.  He was beginning to think Felicity had an oral fixation.  And frankly…he was pretty sure that this was how he died.

“What’s with the sucker?” Diggle asked when Felicity arrived with a small lollipop stick poking out from between her lips.

With a smile, she pulled it from her mouth with a faint pop, and Oliver felt his own mouth fall open slightly.  “Just got back from my annual physical.  They had a dish on the counter and I couldn’t resist.”  She gave the sucker a light lick before planting herself in front of her computer, and Oliver temporarily forgot how to breathe because she really, really needed to stop eating that sucker in front of him.  The way she would suck it tightly in her mouth, only occasionally popping it out to say something to someone….  
It was… _doing things_ to him.  
  


The third time he distinctly remembered it being an issue, she nearly gave him a heart-attack.

He’d run into her while she was out with her girlfriends on a bachelorette party.  He’d been about to stop and say hi, when he caught sight of the ridiculous purple, penis-shaped straw she had in her drink.  All the girls had them, but he only had eyes for Felicity, whose brightly colored lips were actually wrapped around the ridiculous toy straw.

Really, he thought, unable to stop the tightening in his groin, this one wasn’t his fault.  That stupid party favor was intentionally dirty.  His mind hadn’t even been in the gutter.  But now…oh god, a barrage of images of Felicity was assaulting his mind, and he was trying valiantly to keep them at bay.

“Shit,” he breathed, signaling the waiter, intending to ask for his check so he could get the hell out of there, but instead accidentally ordering another drink.  Oops.

  
Oliver groaned.  The fourth time was the worst so far.  The hottest day of summer had lead them all to retreat to the cool shady basement of the lair, and Felicity had arrived with a cooler full of popsicles for everyone.

He watched her drag her tongue up the side of the peach popsicle, catching a drip before it hit her hand, and nodded to himself.

This was probably how he was going to die.  She was going to kill him.  
  


No, no the fifth time.  The fifth time was by far the worst.  “Must you eat that?” he asked, unable to keep the edge of irritation out of his voice.

She frowned at him, pausing with a knife full of nutella in one hand and a banana in the other.  “Seriously?  I missed breakfast.  I’m starving.”

 _Oh by all means,_ Oliver thought sarcastically. _Keep eating it.  As long as you’re okay with the possibility that I may jump you any given second._

Seeing that he’d decided not to reply, Felicity smeared the nutella on her banana while reading the e-mail on her computer, absentmindedly licking at the nutella, and sucking it off the banana before smearing more on it.  Each time she placed the banana deep in her mouth so she could get at all of the nutella, before sliding the banana out and licking at a bit of nutella that had smudged on her lip.  Then she took a slow bite of the banana, chewing slowly as she processed the e-mail she was reading.

Oliver started reciting the Russian alphabet in his head.  Backwards.  
  


Oliver let out a low moan, jerking awake to a pleasurable sensation shooting through his body.  “Dear God fuck,” he swore, eyes falling on Felicity, his bed sheets fallen over her hips while she sucked on his cock. 

“Holy Christ,” he groaned, his hand burying in her hair while her hot wet tongue curled around him and she cupped his balls.

God, he’d had so many wet dreams about her doing this.  He’d never in a million years thought…”Fuck, Felicity!”  Last night they’d gotten carried away.  Or rather…he’d gotten carried away.  And he carried her right with him.  Straight to his bed.  They’d…screwed?  Made love?  He wasn’t sure which…but whatever it was, they’d done it all night, and it had been unimaginably good.  And now, here he was, waking up not just with her in his bed but with her going down on him, her blonde head bobbing up and down as she swallowed as much of him as she could, her hand pumping his base to meet her mouth.  He was the luckiest bastard on the face of the earth and he was pretty sure he was going to hell in exchange for this moment of paradise.  “Felicity, I’m gonna…shit, I can’t….”

She moaned around him, the low hum vibrating around him and sending him over the edge, jerking into her mouth and spilling hot seed into her.  She groaned as she swallowed as much as she could, her lips glistening with his cum when she finally released him with that same faint pop as she did that blasted lollipop just the other day.

Oliver had her under him in one swift movement, claiming that petulant mouth he was always so fixated on.  “God, I freaking love your mouth,” he told her, lips brushing against hers hotly.


	15. Bridal Glow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: How about Lyla/Diggle wedding prep. Oliver/Felicity are part of the wedding party and Lyla is a bit of a bridezilla since she never got a perfect first wedding and stressed after just having a baby. Oliver and Felicity having just gotten secretly engaged are exchanging eye rolls and laughs all night.

“Why hasn’t she called back?” Lyla screeched.  “She’s my freaking sister, she needs to call me back!  This is out of control!”

“I’ll tell you what’s out of control,” Lyla’s friend, Margot, muttered darkly while Felicity stood beside Oliver, looking torn between rolling her eyes and making another attempt to soothe Lyla.  Oliver just looked scared.

“Is this normal?” he asked Felicity quietly, watching Lyla rave about the fact that she’d called her sister twenty minutes ago about changing the color of the bridesmaids’ toenail polish and still hadn’t heard back.  “Like…” he looked at Felicity sideways, realizing he probably shouldn’t finish his sentence.

“Am I going to be like this?” she finished for him dryly.  “I doubt it.  Lyla’s just gotten caught up.  I mean…to be fair, the first time she and Digg got married, she didn’t actually get to have a wedding.  And now, I mean, the woman just had a baby.  She’s a little tense.”

“A little tense?” Oliver repeated, stifling a laugh as he watched Lyla and Margot get into it.  (“Of course she’s not talking to you!  You sent her a gift certificate to a waxing salon.  And wrote ‘Upper lip’ on the card!” Margot yelled.)  Oliver brushed back Felicity’s ponytail and ran his thumb along the small clasp of a silver chain that disappeared drown the front of Felicity’s dress, hiding her engagement ring for the time being.  It was their little secret for now.  They hadn’t wanted to step on Digg and Lyla’s big moment.

Judging by the state of Lyla’s nerves, Oliver felt like that was probably a pretty good call.  (“Have you seen her upper lip?  I just want the wedding photos to be perfect!  At least I _got_ her a gift certificate!  That’s not cheap, you know!”)

Felicity smiled as she felt the pad of his thumb.  “I feel like we should do something to stop this before she strangles Margot.  Or vice versa.”

“Oh, Lyla could definitely take her,” Oliver commented, and Felicity elbowed him, giggling.

 _“Oliver!”_ she chided as he chuckled.

“And what exactly do you two think is so funny over there?” Lyla demanded, turning her ire on them.

The smile slid from Oliver’s face and he gulped nervously.


	16. Eavesdropping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: Oliver overhears Felicity, Sara, Thea, Nyssa, and Lyla talking about sex and starts to walk away until he hears Felicity talk about her fantasy of sleeping with him. Roy and Digg catch him listening and Oliver realizes Felicity knew he was there.

“Oh come _on_ , everyone has a fantasy.  What about with Oliver?  Don’t even pretend you haven’t fantasized about him,” Sara’s voice carried through Thea’s bedroom door, and Oliver found himself pausing just out of hearing distance, surprised to hear several familiar voices giggling and chiming in.  He’d been coming to ask Thea if she wanted to get takeout.  He hadn’t realized she had company.  Perils of a large house.

“I for one can attest to the fact that she’s _definitely_ though about it,” Thea said, voice ringing amusement.

“I…I mean…it’s occurred to me,” Felicity said.

“Well I can tell you _he’s_ thought about it for sure,” Sara said slyly.  “Nyssa, pass the wine.”

“I don’t understand your embarrassment,” Nyssa contributed, and Oliver heard the clinking of glasses and the sound of wine being poured.  “Oliver would be a more than adequate partner.  He’s attractive and has excellent stamina.  You would be a more than compatible match.”

Oliver’s eyes widened.  He really should move.  Make himself known.  Leave and come back later.  He definitely should not be listening in on this clearly private conversation.  But curiosity kept him rooted to the spot.  He only wished he could see Felicity’s expression to get a better idea of what she was thinking.

“Compatible match?” Sara teased.  “Is that all it takes?”

“Of course, love always enhances the experience,” Nyssa said candidly, but Oliver could read the sentiment in her voice and was sure Sara could, too.

Thea snorted.  “God you two are hopeless.  But anyway, Ollie’s totally in love with her.  Let’s not even play games about it.  I can’t believe you won’t admit you’ve thought about it!  It’s not like it’s some big secret.  Your picture is basically next to the term ‘Freudian Slip’ in the dictionary.”

They dissolved into giggles and Oliver imagined Felicity playfully shoving at his sister.  “Gee, thanks!  I mean…okay, fine.  I’ve thought about it.”  
Oliver felt his breathing come to a full stop.

“Okay, you have to admit one fantasy.  Sara and I already went.  Nyssa’s next.”

Felicity groaned, sounding embarrassed.  “Okay, I’ve definitely had the whole boss/secretary fantasy about him.”

“Oooh, on your desk at QI?” Sara prompted, while Oliver’s mouth went completely dry.  There were a lot of images running through his mind suddenly, and none of them were PG.

Felicity hesitated, and he could picture her taking a sip of wine before revealing, “Usually it features _his_ desk, actually,” to which all the women squealed in delight.  Except Nyssa, who wasn’t really a ‘squealer.’

“Hey, dude.  Whatcha doin’ out here?” Roy’s voice sounded, making Oliver jump about two feet.

“I…what are you doing here?”

“Thea texted me to bring pizza.  I guess it’s girls’ night or something.  Digg and I were out so I brought him with.  You wanna go for beers with us?”

“I think Oliver’s preoccupied,” Diggle said with a smirk, crossing his arms and looking at Oliver as the women’s shrieks of laughter met their ears.  
Not noticing what Diggle was implying, Roy brushed past Oliver to enter Thea’s room, where he knocked on the door and pushed it open part way.  “Ladies?” he asked, grinning boyishly.  “Am I interrupting?  I brought pizza.”

The girls’ laughter escalated into louder shrieks in response to a male presence, and Roy had to chuckle.

“I take it I missed something.”

More laughter greeted him in reply, but it was Felicity’s voice carried over the sound.  “Don’t worry, Roy.  Oliver can fill you in on the whole thing later.”

Oliver’s stomach plummeted and he heard Diggle next to him: “Mmhmm.  Busted.”


	17. Lesson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: Oliver teaches Felicity how to use the bow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just fyi this gave me some s[inc]erious Chlollie/Smallville feels. -sigh-

“Show me.”

“What?”

“Show me how you do that.  I want a lesson.”

Oliver looked at Felicity hard.  She had that grim and forceful expression of determination that he’d come to both admire and dread.  He admired it for obvious reasons, but he dreaded seeing it on her otherwise candid, expressive face because she only wore it when something serious had upset her.  He didn’t like anything that faded Felicity’s smile.  “A lesson?” he repeated cautiously, and she nodded, her mouth in a thin line as she looked at the bow in Oliver’s hands.  She’d burst into the Foundry, clearly hoping to be alone, but had found him there instead, arbitrarily aiming at tennis balls and aluminum cans for lack of anything better to do.

He studied her, but her face gave nothing away.  She only looked at him with an unwavering expression.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m just tired of feeling weak.”  The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them, and Oliver’s heart clenched, both from what she’d said and from her expression of humiliation.

He opened his mouth to ask what had happened, who had hurt her.  He felt his jaw tick as he thought about demanding to know so he could seek retribution, but one look at the hurt expression in her eyes had him rethinking.  She didn’t need a vengeful Arrow right now.  She needed comfort and kindness and maybe a little respect, too.  “Okay,” he said, surprised even as the word slipped out.

She looked stunned by his agreement.  Hell, he _felt_ stunned, but he still found himself beckoning her over.  He passed the bow to her, and as he did, he noticed the outfit she was wearing.  A kelly green cocktail dress.  It looked nice.  Too nice for work.  She’d been out this evening.  Somewhere expensive.  He found his jaw ticking, bothered by the fact that she’d been out with someone and he’d had no clue.  “Here,” he said, voice flat as he gently guided her arms into position, ghosting his fingers faintly over her forearm and elbow before tracing down to her fingers.

He heard her breath hitch.

“Just…look ahead, not at your hands,” he said calmly.  “You’re in control, not the bow, not the arrow.  You.”

He could feel her reaction to the words, like an electric current running through her skin.  He hadn’t intended it to, but it had obviously meant something to her.

“Felicity…”

“Just tell me what’s next,” she interrupted, unable to mask the faintest of waivers in her voice, though only Oliver would ever have been paying enough attention to notice it.

He stifled a small sigh and tried to ignore the fact that he could practically feel her pulse like this, with her back a breath away from his chest.  “Here,” he said nudging her feet into the correct stance with his own foot, incidentally removing the remaining space between them.  “And…” he hesitated, choosing his words carefully.   “Just…relax.  Even out your breathing.  Forget everything else,” he added the last part with a certain amount of tenderness in his voice, and was rewarded when the slightest amount of tension slipped from her shoulders.  He felt her attempts to steady her breathing, but by the same token felt his own picking up for the same reasons she was having trouble reigning in hers.  She was wearing a different perfume tonight, something different from her usual fruity, summery scents.  This was heady…seductive.  Where had she been tonight?  And why had she ended up here instead.

He ran his fingers over hers gently before covering her hand and helping her draw the string further back.  Trying to dismiss the hypnotic effect of her perfume, he instead turned his head to focus on their target: a tennis ball he had already pinned to the wall earlier.  But as he did so, his jaw brushed along the top of her head, and she involuntarily tilted back into him.  It was painful, almost, how perfectly her body fit into his.  He closed his eyes for a second and tried to get a grip.  Unfortunately, he also currently had a grip on her, and—

“Oliver?”

Her voice was quiet, and he nodded his head the smallest fraction.  “With me,” he said, allowing his breath to finally fall into sync with hers.  “One,” he breathed.  “Two…”

“Three,” she whispered with him as both their fingers released the bow string together, the arrow flying across the room and—with Oliver’s guidance, burying itself deep in their target.


	18. Stop Trying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: Felicity and Oliver find out she's pregnant after they'd just given up and adopted a couple of months earlier

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a very detailed prompt (I paraphrased because it was super, super long), and I just wasn’t feeling the flow for a really lengthy, multiple-scene fic today. So I hope you won’t mind I decided to reduce it to a snapshot scene, if you will.

“Uh uh.  I don’t think you understand.  You must have screwed up the files,” Felicity shook her head.

Oliver couldn’t form words.  His mouth was open and he was staring at the doctor like he’d just sprouted a second head.

“There’s no mistake.  It’s really not that uncommon—” the doctor started to explain, but Felicity interrupted.

“I don’t think you’re hearing me.  We tried for two years.  TWO YEARS.  So we adopted.  A month ago.  We have an infant at home.  We’ve only barely gotten into the swing of this.  And you’re telling me now I got pregnant?” Felicity demanded, the pitch of her voice rising to near hysteria.

Oliver had to sit down.

“Honestly, this happens to couples all the time.  When you’re trying to have a baby, the stress of that just works against your odds.  Couples who adopt and take the pressure off of themselves to procreate…well, the alleviate their original problem, essentially.”

Oliver couldn’t say anything.

“So all my nausea….”

“Completely standard morning sickness.”

“Oh my God,” Felicity breathed, starting to hyperventilate.  “Oh my God.  Oliver.  Oliver?” she looked around, and saw that Oliver was still shell-shocked.  She snatched up a pamphlet on ear-infections and threw it at him.  “Say something!  This is all your fault!”

Oliver looked at her, stood up again and walked over to her, cupping her face before kissing her hard, right in front of the doctor.  “I love you,” he said happily, looking into her eyes, his own starting to water.  “We’re gonna be parents.  Again.”

He really didn’t think he could get any happier.


	19. A Nuisance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: the downside of having Oliver as a flatmate. He doesn't strike me as the tidiest chap... Also: he's a big guy presumably living in a small space!

Felicity sighed.  _Again?_ she grumbled to herself.

It wasn’t Oliver’s fault, she knew.  Her house was… _tight._   Okay, not tight.  It was small.  It was closed in.  It was cramped and barely big enough for her.

And Oliver Queen was much, much bigger than she was.

He just didn’t fit.  And so she understood that he had his little cutesie workout routine, and that the only way to really get that done was to move her coffee table out of the way and use the living room floor, but—

“Oliver, I can’t get through the door again.”

Her skirt was too tight and her heels were too high for her to be clambering over it like she sometimes did so she wouldn’t disturb him.  She rubbed a hand over her face to try to temper her

He looked up from his pushups and smiled sheepishly.  “Sorry,” he said, coming over and, instead of moving the coffee table over a foot, reached over and picked her up, setting her down on the other side of the coffee table, giving her a coy wink after doing so.

Truly, what got annoying was not the fact that he rearranged her furniture.  It was that it never occurred to him how irritating it was to not be able to walk into her own living room time and again.

Oliver was about to get back to working out when he spotted the look on her face.  “Are…is something wrong?” he asked tentatively.

Was something wrong?  How about the complete and utter upheaval of her life since she’d insisted Oliver stay with her?  How about not feeling like she could be comfortable  in her own home because she constantly had company?  How about feeling the need to put mascara on in the middle of the night just to go to the kitchen for a glass of water because God forbid he see her looking less than pristine?  (Yes, she knew she had insecurity issues.  She was working on it, okay?)  Or not being able to concentrate on work when she brought it home because of the embodiment of distraction waltzing around her apartment in the evenings?  (Really: was he allergic to shirts or something?)  Worst of all, how about the complete lack of sleep she got because of the sound of Oliver screaming in the next room?  Did he have any idea the kind of torture it was to see him in that kind of agony and still follow his direct orders not to touch him when it happened?  Did he really think she could just roll over and ignore it?  She was exhausted from sitting up with a cup of tea in her hands, watching over him from a stupid armchair across the room, hoping that if _nothing_ else, her presence would help calm him down.  It did, but that wasn't the point.

The point was she was exhausted.  She pinched her brow before looking up at Oliver, intending to say that no, she was fine.  But judging from the expression on his face… “Shit,” she sighed.  “How much?”

He gave her a helpless look.  Yep, she’d said all of it out loud.  She cursed again.

“Oliver—”

“Felicity, I’m sorry.  I know you’re wearing thin.  I…” he paused, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly.  “I can’t thank you enough for having me here…for putting up with me.  I know it’s a small house and really wasn’t meant for two people—”

“Especially not one your size,” Felicity joked weakly, and was relieved to see Oliver smile.

“—but the good news is, I found a place today.  I was gonna tell y—”

“What?  No!” Felicity said before she could stop herself.

Oliver looked confused.

“I…really?” she asked sadly.  “You’re leaving?”

He frowned.  “Well…yeah, I mean…I promised I wouldn’t stay long, so—” he broke off when she flung herself at him, arms wrapping around him tightly and burying her face into his stupid, sweaty, naked chest.  (Seriously.  Allergic to shirts.  It was the only explanation.)

“I like having you here, though,” she pouted and Oliver had to chuckle, allowing himself to hug her back, gently stroking the back of her hair.

“I like being here.  I’m sorry I’m such a nuisance.”

She sighed into his chest.  “You’re not a nuisance.  Just stop blocking the doorway with furniture.”

The corner of his mouth twitched.  “But then I won’t get to pick you up and carry you into the room when your skirts are too tight.”

She pulled back and hit his shoulder.  “I knew it!  You _have_ been doing it on purpose!”


	20. A Test of Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: "you will never love me the way that I love you" use this line in whichever way you want. Angst, Comedy, or something that they overhear.

“Please?  Just one bite.”

“No,” Felicity said stubbornly, ducking away from him.

“Seriously?  It’s just one bite.”

“Get your own.”

“But you love me.”

“Not that much.”

“Oh come on, I promise to bring you more tomorrow,” he teased, giving her his best pout.

“Ugh, _fine._   But I’m holding you to that.”  She sadly handed over her pint of ice cream with the spoon in it, watching Oliver take a very large, very self-satisfied bite of it.  “Such a sacrifice.”

“But in the name of love,” he winked, licking the spoon clean.  “Thank you,” he said, handing it back to her.

She sighed.  “But let the record show: you will never love me the way that I love you,” she shook her head, and Oliver just smirked.


	21. Okay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: I was wondering if I could request an olicity Drabble where they get drunk together and feelings start to be said and they kiss and like wake up in the arrow headquarters and talk about what happened

“Hey,” Oliver greeted.  “I thought I might find you down here.”

Felicity looked up from her desk but said nothing.  She looked dejected and miserable, which was exactly what Oliver had anticipated.  Even if he’d hoped he would be wrong.

“Your mother’s quite the character,” he said.

She scoffed, but still said nothing.  It was wildly un-Felicity-like, and it was really bothering him.  Which was why he’d brought reinforcements.

Lifting a brown paper bag, he explained.  “Listen, if anyone understands screwed-up parent-child relationships, it’s me.  Which is why I know: drinking isn’t the answer.”  He pulled out two bottles of wine and handed her one.  “But sometimes it sure as hell helps.”  He gave her an encouraging smile and was relieved to hear her small laugh as she accepted the bottle.  He pulled a corkscrew out of his back pocket and cut the foil for her then pulled out the cork with a small pop.  He did the same for his own bottle before tapping the neck against hers.  “Cheers,” he said.

“Cheers,” she echoed, and they each took a swig from their bottles.

Two hours and two twists of the corkscrew later, they were both sitting on top of Felicity’s desk, which Oliver had very sloppily cleared for them.

“I still can’t believe she made a pass at you!” Felicity laughed, taking another swig of her now nearly-empty second bottle.

Oliver breathed a laugh.  “It was… _interesting.”_

“Let me guess, she was all, ‘God, being around a man like you, sure makes an old girl feel young,’” Felicity did an uncanny impersonation of her mother that had Oliver reeling.

“Okay, that was just scary.”

Felicity snickered.  “She just wants you to contradict her and tell her she’s not old.  And then she probably pulled one of these,” she grabbed his tie and pulled him closer.

Oliver gulped.  “Uh huh.”

Felicity laughed, releasing him, and Oliver loosened his tie, feeling suddenly uncomfortable.  “My mother,” she laughed, “has been using the same line and the same move for the last decade or so.  It’s amazing that she still thinks it works.”

Oliver was trying to refocus his brain on anything other than the idea of Felicity grabbing him by his tie and pulling him into a kiss.  The image was much more enticing than he’d care to admit.

“Ugh, I just wish she’d leave me alone,” Felicity said sadly, polishing off the bottle and setting it aside.  “Every time I think it’s safe to stop looking over my shoulder, she shows up.”

“I can relate to that feeling,” Oliver said sympathetically, placing his hand over hers gently.

“Yeah.”  Felicity stared at their fingers, which were strangely blurred.  Oh right.  She’d just finished off her second bottle of wine in so many hours.  “I think I’m…think I’m drunk.”

Oliver laughed, bumping his nose against hers.  “You’re definitely drunk.  And so am I…for that matter.”  He frowned.  “I don’t drink much anymore.”

She dropped her forehead to his shoulder.  “I know.”

It was so much easier to be affectionate when he was drunk, Oliver thought vaguely, stroking her hair.  When he was sober, he calculated every little move around her.

“Oliver?” she asked, face still buried in his neck while she tried to regain some equilibrium.

“Mmhmm?”

“Are you drunk enough to admit something?”

“Probably.  Shoot.”

“I know the whole thing was a set up, and you knew we were being watched, but was it really complete fiction when you said Slade took the wrong woman?”

Oliver gently pushed her back by her shoulders so he could look at her.  Her hair was a little bit mussed, and she was a little wobbly with her lips stained slightly red from the wine, and she looked openly curious.  Not anxious or embarrassed or even hopeful.  Just…curious.  Like she just needed to know.

So Oliver leaned forward and kissed her.  She tasted like Pinot Noir.  And honey.  He wasn’t sure where the honey flavor was coming from but it was definitely there, warm and sweet and seductive.  He lifted his hand to the back of her head, threading it in her hair so he could pull her closer while he deepened the kiss.  His slid his tongue into her mouth and relished the faint gasp she emitted in response, her hand flexing underneath his on the desk.  He was so insistent that slowly, she uncrossed her legs and shifted forward, attempting to meet his demanding kiss.  He sucked on her lip, first the top one and then the bottom, and she groaned softly, surging forward and sliding her free hand around the back of his neck.

Oliver released her hand to trace over her hip, and she felt electricity shoot through her at each ghostly touch of his fingertips, until he slipped his hand around to her lower back and tugged her even closer, and then—

They toppled backwards off the desk, landing on the floor with a painful thud, a yell, and an expletive or two.

“Are you okay?” Oliver laughed.

“I think you—oof—” she shifted clumsily, accidentally putting her weight directly on his chest and causing him to grunt, “I think you broke my fall mostly.  You?” she asked.

“I’m good.  The, uh, floor broke my fall.”

Felicity looked at him and burst into laughter, and he joined her, and they collapsed to the floor in giggles and good humor, until they both drunkenly fell asleep there, Felicity dozing off on top of Oliver, Oliver finally drifting to sleep with his arm still slung around Felicity’s waist and his hand buried in her hair again, while they attempted to sleep off all the wine.

In the morning, Felicity woke to the memory of Pinot Noir and neckties and Oliver’s lips.  She very decidedly recalled the feel of Oliver’s lips on hers.  She also felt slightly nauseous and her head was pounding.  “Oliver,” she groaned.  “Oliver we fell asleep.”

“Don’t talk just now, my head feels like it was hit by a ton of bricks.”

“That might also be from falling off the desk.”

“Why did we think it was a good idea to sit there when there are perfectly good couches at both of our homes?”

“I don’t know but your voice is so loud,” she whined, scrunching her nose and burying her face in his chest.  “For the record, I would normally be way more embarrassed right now, but my head hurts too much for embarrassment.”

“Agreed.”

Felicity frowned and was silent for a long time.  “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Question?”

“Last night.”

“Oh.”

She paused, waiting, and he still didn’t say anything, so she just sighed.  “Thanks for coming to check on me.  I needed that.  Even if today is gonna suck because of it.”

He smiled softly, stroking her hair very gently.  “You’re welcome.”

“Are you ever going to?”

“What?”

“Answer the question.”

Oliver sighed, his eyes closed tightly.

“I’ll take that as a no.”

“No.”

“What?”

“No, I mean…You asked if it was complete fiction.  No, it wasn’t.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

“What does that mean?  ‘Okay?’”

She shrugged.  “I just needed to know.”

“Yeah…okay,” he said after slight hesitation, shifting so that she could better snuggle into his side.  “You know, eventually we’re going to have to leave.  Or else risk someone finding us here.”

She just moaned in protest.

“We could get breakfast somewhere.  Pancakes and eggs would probably help with this.”

“Fine.  Later.”

“Felicity—”

“Later.”

“Okay.”


	22. Cops & Robbers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: Felicity finds Oliver's leather-suit/costume maker online and decides to order herself a little something for Oliver's eyes only.

»»I know we said we were gonna keep it quiet this year.

»»But I decided I wanted to do something for our anniversary.

Oliver smiled down at his phone and shook his head.  He wondered what had changed Felicity’s mind.  And he hoped this meant she wouldn’t be annoyed with him for the earrings he’d bought her.  What could he say?  He hadn’t been able to resist getting her a little something.

When he opened the door and walked into the living room, he was still looking at his phone, and didn’t see Felicity right away.

She cleared her throat and he looked up, instantly forgetting how to breathe.

Felicity stood nervously in the middle of the room, wearing a lace-up corset with a large hood draped over her shoulders, the material a perfect match for the green leather of his Arrow costume.

She grinned at him.  “Wanna play cops and robbers?” she asked.


	23. Surprise, Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: Felicity walks in on Oliver trying to teach their 2 year old to shoot a mini bow and arrow.

Felicity shook her head, leaning in the door frame and watching.  She really should have expected this.

She had been surprised a month ago when her son had come home from middle school with a petition he had started to form an archery club.  She shouldn’t have been.

She also shouldn’t be surprised that her son’s favorite books and movies were the _Lord of the Rings_ series, with a heavy emphasis on Legolas, of whom her son had several posters hanging in his room, alongside a movie poster from _The Hunger Games_ signed by Jennifer Lawrence.

She should definitely not have been surprised that among their barely two-year-old daughter’s first words had been the term “fox,” referring of course, to the fox in a certain Disney cartoon.  A cartoon which had to be replayed on almost constant loops some afternoons, for fear she would start crying again.

She should not have been surprised when her twelve-year-old son had bought her two-year-old daughter the movie _Brave_.

And she certainly shouldn’t have been surprised which she discovered two rare, first edition copies of _The Adventures of Robin Hood and His Band of Merry Men_ on the book shelves of both of her children.  Or that, when asked how long they had been there, her son had simply shrugged.

No, really, it was almost ridiculous that she hadn’t seen this coming, she thought, watching her overgrown-child-of-a-husband attempt to fit a plastic bow and arrow into his toddler’s tight little grip.

What didn’t surprise her?  It didn’t surprise her when their daughter managed to stick the suction cup dart directly in the center of a sun she’d finger painted earlier that week, which was currently taped to the fridge.


	24. Hands Off—Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: i'd give anything for you to turn the burlesque au into a multi chapter fic

“You must really enjoy throwing away your money,” Felicity commented off-handedly, alone in a private room with Oliver.

Oliver just shot her a look.  He slipped out of his suit coat and draped it over the back of the booth, rolling up his sleeves calmly.

“Because, you know, the whole point of these private rooms is to do something…private,” she pointed out bluntly.

And now he just looked amused, taking a seat in the large, plush booth and taking up his usual glass of gin.

“I really don’t understand why anyone would spend this kind of money just to listen to a girl talk.”

“I don’t.”

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t spend it to listen to a girl talk.  I spend it to listen to _you_ talk.”

Felicity shook her head in exasperation, a few tendrils of hair tumbling forth from the sparkling clip holding back the rest of her curls.  Oliver watched them with interest.  The truth was that he knew she wasn’t going to leave her job at Tommy’s club, and he couldn’t make her.  She needed the money and she wasn’t going to allow him to swoop in and save her.  So instead he came there almost every night she worked, hell bent on keeping her from other men, but never actually claiming her for himself.  It had been going on for months.

She loved him for it.  And every day that he refused to so much as graze fingers with her when he passed her something, she knew it was a testimony to how much he was falling for her.  He would never allow her to feel like he was paying for her body, like so many others tried to do.

But as much as she cherished the gesture, it was slowly making her insane.  “What if I said I didn’t feel like talking?”

Oliver just raised an eyebrow at her, and she plopped herself stubbornly into a seat across from him, situating the skirt of her orange dress before leveling him with a determined look.  He didn’t say anything, but she caught the faint twitching at the corner of his mouth that suggested a smile.  She’d been making that her mission in life lately: to better develop that muscle.  But today she was frustrated.  She was tired.  And she was determined.

“Are you really just going to sit there?” she demanded.

In reply, he took another sip of gin.

“What if I said I wanted you to stop coming?” she said cruelly, too frustrated to sit still and standing right back up again, stalking across the small room.

She didn’t see the hurt that flashed almost imperceptibly across Oliver’s face.  “Then I’d stop,” he said simply.

“What does it take with you?” she asked angrily.  “Do you just have infinite self control or something?  Do you not get that this cat-and-mouse thing is driving me insane?”

Oliver sighed, standing up and walking over to her so she had to face him.  “What do you want, Felicity?  As long as you work here, I can’t take you out like a normal date.  But you won’t quit.”

She bit her lip, wondering what to say to that.  “I just want to stop waiting for the stars to perfectly align with you and your moral code.  Maybe this is how it has to be for now.”

Frustrated, Oliver gave her a hard look, one that had a surge of heat running through her in response.  “So what?  You want me to be just like any other guy who comes in here?  Do you want me to tear off your clothes, to run my greedy hands all over you, and use you?” he asked, almost yelled, a ferocious look in his eyes.

“Yes!” she groaned.  “Yes, goddammit, Queen!  All of the above!”  She grabbed his suspenders so he couldn’t back off, and Oliver found himself breathing heavily, his palms twitching as he refused to close the remaining distance.  “Damn it, strip me down, touch every square inch of me…throw me down on the fucking table and screw me—I don’t care anym—”

The coil of Oliver’s tightly wound control had finally snapped and he grabbed her face, bringing his lips crashing down against hers with bruising force so that she let out a startled moan in surprise.  He raked his hands down her back, hauling her against him, leaving a trail of heat blazing in the wake of his fingertips.  Felicity struggled to gasp for air, but Oliver wouldn’t relent.  He grasped her hip tightly, digging his fingers in so much it almost hurt, and he snaked his other hand back up to twist into her hair, tugging her head back slightly so he could deepen the kiss, his tongue delving into her mouth and quickly dominating hers.

It was all Felicity could do to maintain her grip on his suspenders for support.  She could barely stand upright, her belly bubbling with heat and her thighs tightening with need.  She pressed against him, her breasts aching for his touch while she felt her senses utterly overwhelmed by him.  Months of built up tension had finally led to this moment and the room was spinning.

Wait.  That was because she could barely breathe.

She tore her head back and gasped for breath, and Oliver—much to her dismay—released her and took a step back.

He drug a hand through his hair and looked away from her before looking back, his breathing ragged and his eyes dark.  “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Oh fuck you,” she rolled her eyes haughtily, launching herself at him for round two.


	25. Physics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: Oliver vs Felicity & a pool table. Oliver's ridiculous aim and Felicity's love if psychics should make for quite the battle royale.

Come on Oliver, she said.  It’s just a friendly game, Oliver, she told him.

Except for the part where Felicity took billiards much more seriously than he’d ever anticipated.  Diggle and Roy were taking bets, Sara was egging them on, and Oliver was…regretting his life choices.

They were down to just the 8-ball, and he’d never anticipated that Felicity’s knowledge of physics would aid her so remarkably.

But really, his superior aim would have carried him through…if it weren’t for one thing.

This has to be cheating, Oliver grumbled to himself, choking slightly when Felicity sprawled herself across the pool table to reach her ‘perfect shot,’ still leaving the very tip of one foot on the ground to make the shot legal.

It was causing Oliver a certain amount of distraction.  And he was going to—

“That’s it!  Felicity wins!” Diggle announced in response to the heavy thud of the black ball sinking into its designated pocket, almost incredulous but clearly delighted.

Roy shook his head, fishing for his wallet in his back pocket so he could pay up.  “I can’t believe it.  I thought for sure Oliver could smoke her.”

Diggle smirked.  “I think Oliver’s aim was a little off tonight.”

Oliver tore his eyes away from Felicity’s ass and caught Diggle looking at him with a  very smug expression.

“I told you,” Felicity crowed.  “It’s all about the physics.”


	26. Decisions, Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: Established olicity. Interior decorating. Bonus points for wine cellar, virtual reality room, or secret archery shrine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not sorry at all about what happened here.

Felicity shifted slightly, curling her legs a little tighter around Oliver’s, glad when he wrapped his arm more tightly around her bare back.  “It’s cold down here,” she murmured.

“It’s supposed to be.”

She smiled lightly.  “I’m glad we went with the wine cellar,” she said, looking around them at the shelves, some empty, but others bearing the first few bottles of wine, the beginnings of their collection.  It was a dark, cool room, with a pleasant oak-y smell about it, and soft lamps on the wall.  The cellar had come out very nicely.

“It was a tough call,” Oliver commented, looking around as well.

She nodded, smirking.  “I mean…so many choices!”

“I don’t think there was a bad decision to make here, though.”  

“I know, but we could have gone with the training room instead.  Or the archery vault—”

“The tech suite.”

“The balcony.”

“The bedroom.”

She scrunched up her nose.  “Who needs bedrooms?  So boring.”

He laughed at her tone, and kissed the top of her head.  “I have a feeling we’ll have to get around to it eventually.”

She nuzzled her face into his neck, pressing the cold tip of her nose into the warmth.  “If you say so.  But regardless.  We made the right decision.”

“On which room to christen first?” he asked humorously.  “I agree.”

She chuckled, swatting his arm playfully.  “No, on having our own place built instead of buying.”


	27. Cupid is a Hack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: Established Oliver/Felicity. Oliver catches Felicity sending a bouquet of flowers to Iris on Barry's behalf."Just needed a little push?"

“What are you doing?” Oliver asked, leaning over her shoulder to look at her computer screen, brushing his scruffy cheek against her smooth one, and making her squirm a little.

“I’m hacking and that tickles!” she accused.

He smirked, just pressing closer.  “Hacking, huh?  Because it looks like you’re ordering flowers.  For someone named…” he searched the page, “Iris West?”  He paused.  Then, “Felicityyyyy.”  There was a faint tone of warning in his voice.

“I’m not sending her flowers,” Felicity argued.  “Barry Allen is sending her flowers.  And I _am_ hacking.”

Oliver sighed, shaking his head, before turning and bumping his nose lightly against her temple.  “Felicity, sending someone flowers under someone else’s name is not hacking.”

She smiled, straightening her glasses when he nudged them askew.  “He did send them.  For her birthday.  Which he mentioned to me.  I’m just hacking the flower company to change the time and shipping address.”

“What?” Oliver raised an eyebrow at her.  “Felicity.  These flowers are still going to go to Iris West, aren’t they?”

She leveled him with a quelling look.  “Of course they are.”  She paused, but he was still narrowing his eyes at her.  Sighing, she explained, “Barry’s heart is in the right place.  He just needs a little nudge in the right direction.  He was going to send her the flowers to her apartment in the evening of her birthday.”

“Right,” Oliver said slowly, “so she’ll be there to receive them when she gets home from work.”

Felicity clucked her tongue.  _“Boys,”_ she muttered.  “Don’t you know that one of the best parts of receiving flowers is spending the whole day letting people ask you who they’re from?”

Oliver chuckled.  “So you’re…?”

“Changing the time of shipment to 9:30 in the morning, and having them delivered to her office.  So everyone there will get to see them delivered, and she can enjoy them all day, and tell people that Barry sent them.  And every time she says his name, she’ll smile, which will mean that she’ll associate Barry’s name with being happy.”

“Masterful plan, Ms. Smoak.”

“Thank you.”

“You know you could have just called the flower shop, right?”

“That’s for amateurs.”

Oliver chuckled quietly.

“Besides, this way Barry won’t be able to trace it back to me.”

“Because God forbid anyone think that you would interfere.”

“Of course.  God forbid.”


	28. The Smoak Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: can you make a prompt in which oliver, kill viciously the person responsible for hurting felicity in his date, and detective lance telling laurel about it, and telling her how he thinks it was personal and how he thinks it is because "the arrow" have something for the IT girl of QC who was injured. and of course laurel Knows!... do I make any sense? feel free to change anything.. just make it high Olicity content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be honest, Anon, this was a little bit of a confusing prompt. I wasn’t sure how to have a fic about the Lances but keep it high in “Olicity content” other than the subject of conversationg being Olicity.
> 
> Anyway, I love writing Lance, and it was fun exercise to write a little Laurel. But this one was a bit of a struggle since it was sort of low in plot-content, and more rambling. Hopefully you guys will still enjoy it.

“What…what happened?” Laurel looked at her father, shock in every inch of her face, hardly daring to believe what he’d told her.

Lance shook his head wearily,resting his head in his hands.  “I dunno, Laurel,” he said weakly.  “I just know there’s been one death.  One.  One that we could directly link to the Arrow in the last year, and that was the death of the Count.  Three arrows to the heart.”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”  Laurel frowned, trying to follow her father’s thoughts.  She hadn’t seen him like this in a long time.  He looked so distressed, defeated.  There was genuine anxiety building behind his eyes, and fear etched in his face.  Her heart clenched with worry.

“Because it was him this time, too, Laurel.  I know it.”

“But—”

“I was there…when they found the body.  He was pinned to the wall with an arrow through his throat.  We’re keeping the media quiet about it for now, but word’s bound to get out that the Arrow’s killed again.”  Lance grimaced, shaking his head.

Laurel’s mind reeled.  That wasn’t the Ollie she knew.  Knowing who the Arrow was…it had been insanity inducing trying to come to terms with everything she knew about Oliver Queen and everything she knew about the Hood.  But her comfort, what got her through the night was knowing that every day for the past two years he had been gradually becoming a better person, fighting to do the right thing, to be a hero.  But to remember the number of lives he had taken when he first came home…it made her stomach churn.

This, though…this was…

“Brutal,” her father finished her thoughts.  He heaved a sigh and ran a hand through his hair.  “And that Smoak girl is in the hospital,” he sighed, “which just makes my day even worse.  I worry about that woman.”

“Smoak-girl?”

Lane waved a hand, worried he’d given away something.  “Oliver Queen’s—”

“Assistant. I know.  We’ve…met,” Laurel trailed off on the insufficient word, her frown deepening.  She certainly _had_ met Felicity Smoak, had seen her take down one of the most frightening men Laurel had ever met: Slade Wilson.  She’d been wondering for months about Felicity Smoak, about who she was and how she had become so indispensable to one of her closest friends without Laurel ever realizing it.  She’d barely noticed Felicity Smoak until the night Slade kidnapped them both.  “Is she all right?  Why is she in the hospital?”

Lance shook his head.  “She got caught in the explosion this afternoon.  I don’t know that it had anything to do with the murder tonight, but…”

“An Arrow to the throat suggests that it does,” Laurel shivered, piecing it together and running her hands over her arms.  “You mentioned the Count.”

Lance nodded.  “The last time the Arrow killed—”

“—was the night the Count kidnapped Felicity Smoak,”   _Oh, Ollie_ , she thought silently, _do you even_ know?  _Do you even_ realize _how deeply you’ve fallen?_

“That girl’s gotten involved in some things that have me scared for her.  I just hope she comes out of all this all right one day.”

Laurel’s face was grim.  “Dad.  Is she okay?”

“She’s in intensive care.”

Laurel stood.

“Where are you going?”

“To see her.  She saved my life last spring.  It’s the least I can do.”  Besides, someone would need to watch over her so Oliver could get some sleep.

Because Laurel had no doubt that now that he’d gotten his vengeance, Oliver had not left Felicity Smoak’s side for a moment.


	29. The Felicity Fetish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: felicity speaks tech language and all the smart talks, oliver gets turned on, but felicity doesn't know her effect on him, but the whole team does.

“…so it’s really pretty simple and I—” Felicity broke off, looking up from her tablet and at the boys’ faces.  “I…” she stammered, “why are you all looking at me like that?”

Roy’s face was a complete blank, Diggle looked totally lost, and Oliver’s mouth was threatening to smile—a sure sign that she’d said something totally ridiculous, but she was pretty sure she hadn’t for once.

“Felicity…” Roy said, “None of us understood a word of what you just said.”

Felicity sighed, rolling her eyes.  “Where did I lose you?”

Diggle shifted awkwardly.  “Around…”

“Step One,” Oliver finished, and yes…yes, he was laughing at her.  She shot him a dirty look but he ignored her.  “Why don’t you back up and try to—”

“Dumb it down for you?” she offered dryly.

But Oliver just smiled.  “Please.”

She shot him a look briefly as she turned back to her tablet and started sliding back through several pages to start over for them.  Oliver had been acting strangely around her lately.

She noticed it again later the next morning at work.  He’d been having trouble with a virus on his laptop, so she’d run a program to get rid of it, and then she was trying to explain some preventative measures he should be taking to keep it from happening again, and she looked up halfway through a sentence and caught him staring at her with an extremely odd look on his face.  “Ol…Oliver?” she asked, swallowing.

He jumped slightly, and was opening his mouth to say something when Digg walked in.

“Hey, guys.  I just heard back from Roy about the guy you had him tailing all morning.  You got a second?”

Oliver nodded, and Felicity shrugged.  “I was just trying to show Oliver how to keep from downloading every available computer virus on the internet.”

Digg glanced at Oliver and smirked slightly.  “Were you now?” he commented, which Felicity thought was very odd, but then Oliver launched into questions about Roy’s intel, and she forgot that it had happened.

Until it happened again a few nights later.  “What…are you…doing?”

Oliver’s voice reached her under her desk in at the Foundry.

She poked her head out from under her desk and found him looking bemusedly down at her.  She brushed a stray tendril of hair out of her face and launched into an explanation about how she was installing a new computer system—a gift from Diggle through Amanda Waller as thanks for a recent favor.  Slowly she realized Oliver was giving her that strange look again and she stopped talking abruptly.  “Aaaaand you don’t care.  Sorry.  I’m just gonna,” she jerked her thumb in the direction of the wires and clicked her tongue in indication.  And as she disappeared back to her work, she heard a soft chuckle come from Roy’s direction.

“Shut up,” she heard Oliver mumble, confusing Felicity still more.  She sighed.  Boys.

The sad thing was she never really made the connection.  When Oliver’s thread finally snapped, she had no idea that the reason was because he’d spent the entire night listening to her mumbling over the comm in his ear as she went toe-to-toe (so to speak) with another hacker.

He’d marched into the lair to find her dancing to her victory music, thrilled after a week of duking it out with this other player to have finally beat him. 

“Oliver!” she looked up, happy to see him.  But before she could say anything else he had crossed the room to her in a few swift strides and shut her up with a kiss.  “You are driving me crazy,” he informed her when he finally pulled back to breathe.

“Tech speak is seriously the weirdest fetish ever,” Roy muttered to Diggle, watching the pair of them from the door.

Diggle smirked.  “To be fair, I think it’s more like a Felicity-fetish than anything.”


	30. Pharmacy Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: felicity and Oliver bump into each other and she drops a pregnancy test. she runs away before he can say anything. they're not together yet so the baby would be someone else's. :)

Oliver had his head down, staring at a text from Thea when he knocked into someone rounding the corner at the same time as him and the shopping bags fell from that person’s hand, spilling onto the sidewalk at their feet.  “Felicity, hey!” he said in surprise, realizing who it was as he stooped to help her collect her things.  

“Oliver!” she said.  But he frowned when he realized it wasn’t a happy exclamation.  More of a panicked one.  Brow cinched, he scooped up a couple of the pharmacy items and handed them back to her—a box of tissues, a bag of m&ms, and…

“What the—”

Felicity snatched the box from his hands so fast his head spun.

“Felicity!” he said, panicking himself.  “Is everything—”

“Gotta run!  Talk to you later!” she blurted, shoving everything in her bags and thing making a dash for it, leaving a few items still on the ground in her rush.

Oliver stood, watching her bolt around the corner, his stomach sinking like lead.

What was Felicity doing with a pregnancy test?

He shook his head, glancing at the items on the ground: a bottle of vitamin C supplements, a box of bandaids, and some disinfectant.  Nothing out of the ordinary.  Nothing to indicate that Felicity was on the precipice of a completely life-changing event.

But…but… “I didn’t even know she was seeing someone,” he muttered, his heart completely clenching in his chest.  The options for what was happening were clear, and he wasn’t sure which one he hated more: the possibility that a one-night-stand might have had such horrible consequences, or the possibility that Felicity had had an ongoing relationship with someone and hadn’t even mentioned it to him.

He picked up the rest of Felicity’s purchases from the ground and swallowed tightly.  He felt miserable, hurt, but he realized that whatever Felicity was going through was a hundred times worse.  Snatching a stray plastic bag that she hadn’t managed to grab in her hurry, he shoved the items in the bag and headed back around the corner in the opposite direction, following after Felicity.

He’d head her off and talk to her whenever she got home for the day.

Felicity was more shocked than perhaps she should have been when she found Oliver waiting on her front steps hours later.  The sight made her stop in her tracks, and her face flushed bright red, recalling their run-in that afternoon.  Oh God, he probably thought….

She shook her head, climbing the steps to meet him, and he smiled gently at her, raising a plastic shopping bag.  “Hey,” he said gently.  “You forgot some stuff earlier.”

“Right…thanks,” she murmured, not meeting his eyes and taking the bag.  She moved past him to open her door, and, hoping to be rid of him, added, “Well, bye,” as she unlocked the door.

Not to be so easily dismissed, Oliver stuffed his hands in his pockets.  “Actually, I was hoping I could come in.”

“Of course you were,” Felicity sighed.  “Yeah, come on in,” she said wearily, pushing the door open and allowing him to follow in after her.

“So…” Oliver said, looking around for some sign to indicate what had been going on in Felicity’s life while he’d been.

Felicity dropped the grocery bag on the kitchen island and rounded the other side, turning to face him.  “So.”  She looked at him, waiting for him to ask.

“So are you…did you…” he broke off, not sure how to delicately broach the question.

She lifted an eyebrow, not helping him.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment while he collected himself.  He looked up at her, and her heart swelled at the concern she read in his face.  “I saw the pregnancy test, Felicity.  Is there anything you want to tell me?”

She folded her arms, the corner of her mouth twitching softly.  “You know, in theory, you should really not be the first person I talk to in this situation.”

“Felicity,” he said, “I realize that, but…I’m worried about you.  I just…I mean, I just want to let you know that I’m here for you.  If you…if you need anything.”

It was too much.  It was the sweetest thing she’d ever heard, and she walked around the island between them and, to his surprise, hugged him.  Slowly, he raised one arm and then the other to hug her back, resting his chin on top of her head.

“Oliver,” she sighed tiredly, “the test wasn’t for me.  It was—and she’ll absolutely kill me for telling you this, but it was for Thea.  She’s fine!” she rushed to add, feeling Oliver’s body stiffen in shock.  “She’s on the pill, but you know it’s not a hundred percent, and she’d been having some morning sickness.  Turns out it was just a reaction because she switched brands recently.  She’s not pregnant.  Promise.”

Oliver was too shocked to respond.

“Okay, but seriously,” Felicity said, pulling back slightly to look at him, “you cannot tell her that I told you.  She swore me to secrecy; I just couldn’t deal with you worrying about me.  I promise she and Roy are being safe. 

Anyway, she was just freaked out so I told her she didn’t have to pick up the test; I’d get it for her.  And I just got back from seeing her and she’s totally fine.  Ugh, I really should have thought of a better lie to cover for this; I should have known you’d be here all freaked out and crap.”

Oliver was having a hard time registering everything she’d just said, and it was difficult to settle on one emotion because Felicity still had her arms wrapped around him and he wasn’t really sure what to think.  “So…” he said finally, “no one…no one’s pregnant, right?”

Felicity chuckled and shook her head.  “Nope.”

“Why are you hugging me?”

She laughed.  “Because you’re a great big idiot and a really good friend.  It’s nice to know that if I ever were in that situation that I’d have you to look out for me.”

Oliver smiled, and squeezed her tightly.  “Of course you would.  You shouldn’t have ever have doubted that.”


	31. Late Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: Felicity has clearly slept with Ray and Oliver isn't to happy about it!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ended up a little more focused on the Smoaking Harp friendship, but I actually think it worked best that way so screw it all I’m going to bed.

“Someone had a late night,” Roy commented slyly when Felicity wandered into the lair one Saturday morning, much later than usual.

Oliver looked up and saw Felicity clutching a cup of tea in her hands.  Her hair, normally so pristine was a little bit messy.  Her clothes were disheveled—again, unusual—and she looked exhausted.

But she didn’t look unhappy about it.

She just smiled at Roy and rolled her eyes humorously before meandering over to her desk and delicately situating herself in her chair, groaning quietly and closing her eyes.

Oliver’s stomach plummeted.

She was… _glowing_.

_Oh…oh God._

“I take it the big date with Palmer last night went well,” Roy continued.

But Felicity wasn’t in the mood to chat.  She just gave Roy a look and said, “Less talk-y, more shhhhh,” and took a deep sip from her tea.

There was a loud clatter as the bow in Oliver’s hand dropped to the floor.  All heads snapped to him, but he said nothing, just slowly stooped to pick it up, carefully keeping his eyes trained on his bow—anywhere but at Felicity.

“Aw, come on.  No details?  You told me last night that he was planning something special,” Roy continued, dropping the bow staff he’d been working with and walking over to tease his favorite blonde.

“Roy,” Diggle said quietly, his eyes on Oliver, but Roy didn’t hear him.

Felicity flushed pink and looked at her computer.  “I…it was nice.”  Her eyes darted in Oliver’s direction and she became uncommonly mute, flattening her lips as she began opening files and windows to continue a project she’d been toying with.

“Nice?  That’s it?  You were so stoked when you were talking about it yesterday.  You literally wouldn’t shut up about it.”

“Roy,” Diggle repeated more urgently, but Roy still wasn’t listening.

“So what’d he do?  Were there flowers?  Fancy cars?  C’mon, Barbie, I need tips for wooing Thea.”

“I think Thea’s pretty much wooed, Roy, no need to go overboard,” Felicity said hurriedly, the gratified flush slowly fading from her body as she tried not to be insensitive to Oliver.  It served him right, she knew.  He had made the choice to push her away.  He had practically shoved her into Ray Palmer’s arms.  She had no reason to be ashamed if Ray Palmer had made love to her last night, no reason whatsoever.

But her heart throbbed as she saw the tenseness in Oliver’s jaw and the sudden fierceness in his target practice.

“Roy,” Diggle repeated one last time, placing a hand on Roy’s shoulder.  “Stop,” he said quietly, indicating Oliver, who was very determinedly pretending not to be paying any of them any attention.

Roy glanced at Diggle in confusion but then followed the other man’s gaze.  “Wh—oh,” he said abruptly.  “Right.  Never mind.  Sorry.”

Roy glanced at his mentor and then at the girl at the desk and sighed, shaking his head.  He wished Oliver would stop being such a moron.  He looked at Felicity and saw that the light in her eyes had gone right out, a complete transformation from the beaming look she’d worn when she first walked in.  _Damn fool,_ he thought, shooting another brief look at Oliver.

“For the record,” Roy said very quietly, leaning over Felicity’s shoulder to whisper in her ear, placing an affectionate hand on her arm.  “I’m glad he’s being good to you, Barbie.  You deserve it.  But if he hurts you, I will personally rip his head off.”  He kissed her on the cheek.

Felicity smiled, a little bit of the anxiety draining from her face.  “I know.  Thanks, Roy.”


	32. GIrls' Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: Felicitys friends are in town for a night and team arrow goes out with them. They all make comments on how hot Oliver is and how weird it is they aren't together yet! :)

You’ve gotta explain that.”

“Explain what?” Felicity asked innocently, biting the olive off the end of the spear from her martini.

“That,” her friend Whitney gestured, waving in the direction that Oliver had just disappeared to.

“Oh, don’t even bother,” Roy chimed in before Felicity could demand to know what Whitney meant.  “She’s going to pretend she has no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I don’t,” Felicity deadpanned, looking from Roy to Whitney.

“You must be joking,” Felicity’s other friend, Torielle, chimed in.  Whitney and Torielle had finally gotten tired of waiting on Felicity to come visit them in Gotham and had shown up in Starling City unannounced the previous day.  In a desperate bid for help, Felicity had persuaded Roy and Oliver to join them on their ‘Girls’ Night Out.’  Only Diggle had managed to escape, claiming father responsibilities as his excuse.  “Felicity, girl,” Torielle pressed.  “You told us you weren’t seeing anyone.”

Felicity choked slightly on her olive and Roy clapped her on the back, chuckling.  “Easy, Blondie.”

“I’m—I’m _not_ seeing anyone,” Felicity protested.

“Then how do you explain Hottie McHottie looking at you with constant heart eyes?” Torielle asked.

“Uh, yeah?  Tall, blonde, and ruggedly handsome over there can’t take his eyes off of you.”

“It’s true,” Roy sighed.

 _“Oliver?”_ Felicity asked incredulously.

“Yes, _Oliver!”_ Whitney repeated, equally incredulous.  “Are you seriously claiming you two aren’t a thing?”

“You’re delusional.  They’re delusional,” she turned to Roy.  “What are they talking about?”

Roy shook his head before tipping back the bottom of his drink.  “You’ve seen it for one night.  I have to live around this,” he said to Felicity’s friends, with the tone of one who is long-suffering.

“Felicity Megan Smoak,” Torielle said, “Did that man or did that man not offer to drive you home tonight when you said you weren’t sure how much you should drink?”

“Well, yeah, Tory, but any good friend would do that.  You would have offered, too, right, Roy?” Felicity asked.

Roy shrugged.  “Sure.  She’s gotcha there,” he told Torielle.

“But,” Whitney chimed in, “he also complimented your looks.”

“He said we all look nice.”

“No, no!” Roy held up a hand.  “The ginger one is right.  He definitely specified you, before adding that your friends looked nice, too.”

“Ha!” Whitney said.

“And he knows your favorite drink—”

“We’re friends.”

“Nope, Dark Chocolate wins this one, Barbie.  I definitely do not have your favorite type of wine memorized.  And I challenge you to name my favorite type of Rum.”

Felicity’s mouth fell open.  “I…well…”

“Or how about the fact that he got all protective-boyfriend on you when that drunk nearly knocked you over earlier?” Whitney continued.  “I’ve never seen a man’s hands fly to a girls waist that quickly.”

“He has really good reflexes.”

“That is true,” Roy allowed, and Felicity looked triumphant, until he added, “But what Ginger said is not _un_ -true, either.”

“And seriously, he freaking _stares_ at you.  Like, _constantly!”_ Torielle continued.

“He does not.”

“Oh, he _definitely_ does,” Roy, Torielle, and Whitney all said at once.

“And he’s more attentive than most husbands.  Felicity.  Felicity Smoak, _baby_ ,” Torielle said.  “You cannot seriously be pretending that you are oblivious to how smitten that man is?”

“Oh, she is,” Roy sighed.

“Why haven’t they done something about it?” Whitney asked Roy, who just shrugged.

“You guys are seriously seeing things,” Felicity shook her head, finally taking the last sip of her martini.

“You’re a moron,” Torielle said sadly.  “I can’t decide if he’s wasted on you or if you’re wasted on him or both.”

“Both,” Roy supplied.

“Hey, what did I miss?” Oliver asked, returning with another martini for Felicity.  “I told them extra olives this time,” he added for her benefit.

Felicity beamed at him, taking the glass.  “Thank you!”  She suddenly felt several pairs of eyes on her, and she and Oliver looked up to find the group staring at them in exasperation.

“Seriously,” Oliver said, lifting an eyebrow in confusion.  “What did I miss?”

“Definitely both,” Whitney said, and Torielle nodded her head in agreement.


	33. Man Points

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: Roy and Oliver run into each other buying tampons/chocolate for Thea and Felicity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this came across the way I wanted it to because I think it is the sweetest thing imaginable when guys take care of the girls in their lives without being embarrassed about it.

“Roy!” Oliver glanced up in surprise, just as Roy simultaneously noticed him, too.

“Dude,” Roy said, hurriedly shifting something behind his back.  Until he looked down and saw the same item in Oliver’s hands.  He laughed.  “You, too, huh?” he asked, holding up the box of Tampons in embarrassment.

Oliver chuckled.  “They must be on the same, uh, cycle,” he said awkwardly.

Roy nodded.

Oliver glanced at the box in Roy’s hands and shook his head, taking it and placing it back on the shelf before seeking out a different brand and handing it to Roy.  “She prefers plastic; trust me on this.  I got guilted into these pharmacy runs a lot growing up.”

“Oh.  Er…thanks.”

There was an awkward pause.

“Okay, do you know what kind of chocolate I’m supposed to get her?  Because she said surprise her and I don’t know if she meant to actually surprise her or to magically remember what her favorite is because—”

“She likes Cadbury.  I gotta pick up some mint chocolate chip ice cream for Felicity, too,” Oliver chuckled.  “Here, I’ll check the candy with you and see if they have her favorite flavor.”

“Oh my God, thank you,” Roy sighed, and Oliver patted him on the shoulder.

“Welcome to my world.”

“Do we lose, like, man points for this or something?” Roy asked while they perused the candy section and Oliver found the Cadbury bars that had almonds and dried fruit for Thea.

Oliver shook his head.  “Actually, all things considered, I think we gain a few.”

Roy thought that over bemusedly.  “That’s…probably true, actually.”


	34. Dangers of Baking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: Felicity likes to bake naked. Oliver likes it more.

“What…are you doing?”

“Making muffins for breakfast.”

“Yes…I guess I got that part.”  Oliver smirked.  He took a seat, resting his chin in his hands, elbows propped on the kitchen counter to watch Felicity pour muffin batter into the paper-lined tray she had in front of her.  A small bit of batter got on her thumb, but before she could wipe it away, Oliver reached out and grabbed her hand, licking it clean for her.  He met her eyes as he did so, and enjoyed the flush of color that rose from her chest right up to her cheeks.  “I missed you when I woke up.”

She glanced back at him before looking down at what she was doing again, suddenly shy.  “Well…here I am.”

“Yes, I see that,” he said amusedly.  “Baking.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Baking naked.”

Her eyes flickered up to his, and her skin flushed still darker.  “I’m not naked.  I’m wearing your shirt.”

He dismissed this caveat.  “Same thing.  So is this a habit of yours?  Leaving bed to go bake in the nude?”

“I’m not nude.”

“But it’s a habit?”

She shrugged lightly, and he eyed the bare skin exposed by the wide, loosely buttoned collar of his shirt from the previous evening.

“I think this might be a dangerous habit.”

“How so?” she asked, scraping the last of the batter from the bowl and licking the spatula when she’d finished.

“Because,” Oliver said, finally pushing himself up from his seat to watch her bend over and place the muffins in the oven, his shirt rising up her thighs as she did so.  “You’re going to burn a lot of things.”

She glanced up as she closed the oven.  “What do you mean?”

In reply, Oliver tugged her into his arms to kiss her, undoing the two buttons holding his shirt onto her and letting it drop to the floor before carrying her straight back to the bedroom.


	35. Insomnia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: could do one where Oliver and felicity complete a mission but the guy gets away and swears that he will hunt felicity down so Oliver is like you are staying with me until we catch this guy, and then like felicity can't sleep and wanders about Oliver's apartment and finds his spare bow and arrow and starts like pretending to shoot arrows from it and acting like she's a superhero and Oliver sees and they have a talk and felicity explains she always wanted to be a hero but feels like she isn't

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, Anon, you’re another one I have to apologize to. This prompt would not cooperate with me! So eventually I gave up and wrote what wanted to be written instead of trying to force it. So it doesn’t have the prancing around section. And it ended less silly and more serious.
> 
> Also, for some reason this ended up set in the mansion instead of Oliver’s apartment, because I jotted it down while I was at work and didn’t have direct access to the wording of your prompt. I know; I know! I suck! Sorry!

Felicity couldn’t sleep.

But she also couldn’t imagine how anyone could sleep in this room, with its priceless mahogany furniture, heavy curtains, and giant four-poster bed, so covered in heavy duvets and pillows that there was barely room for her in it.

She sighed, tossing three more pillows to the floor in her aggravation.  This was ridiculous.

Slipping out of the bed, she crept barefoot across the room, slipping her robe on as she went.

She supposed really, uncomfortable or not, she would still rather be here with the knowledge of Oliver sleeping just down the hall.  Officer Lance’s words were still ringing in her ears.

_“The prison guards heard him chanting your name in his sleep.  We think he’ll try to come for you.”_

So the police had set up a sting at her house, and Oliver had insisted she stay with him.

She quietly padded into the bathroom and ran the faucet, cupping her hands to catch some water for a quick drink before heading for the bedroom door, thinking vaguely about raiding the kitchen—assuming she could find it—for a midnight snack.  Perhaps that would help put her to sleep.

She eased the heavy oak door open quietly enough, but clapped her hand to her mouth to cover a small yelp of surprise.  Leaning against the wall directly beside her door sat Oliver, wearing a pair of blue plaid cotton pants and a white T-shirt, his bow and quiver lying across his lap.

She smiled softly at the scene.  His head had dropped back against the wall, his mouth open slightly while he slept.

Hugging her robe a little more tightly around her, she carefully sat down beside him on the floor, doing her best not to disturb him.  Watching him warily, she whispered softly, “Oliver?  Are you awake?”

He didn’t stir.  He must have been exhausted.

Slowly, tentatively, she dropped her head to rest on his shoulder.  When he still didn’t wake, she let out a soft breath of relief, and let her shoulders slump as she relaxed.  Within moments, she’d fallen asleep.

Had there been someone there to observe them, that person might have noticed that Oliver’s grip had tightened on his bow and his head had lifted for a moment at the first sound of footsteps behind Felicity’s door.

That observer _might_ have thought it odd that someone like Oliver Queen—a notoriously uneasy sleeper—wouldn’t wake at the sound of his own name.

And the observer would likely have then witnessed the faintest tug at the corner of Oliver’s mouth when Felicity’s head came to lay on his shoulder, as well as the tilting of his own head until it came to rest on top of hers.

As it was, there was no one there to notice how his grip slowly relaxed again, or how his breathing slowly evened out to match hers.  But it happened that way just the same.


	36. But It's Prom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: oliver and felicity's son and tommy and laurel's daughter fall in love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still giggling because this idea is adorable.

“No.  Absolutely not.”

“Tommy,” Laurel sighed.

“I’m not having it!  This is where I put my foot down!”

“You can’t stop them!  If she wants to go with the Queens' son, she can go with him!  It’s the prom!  Are you seriously planning to tell our daughter that she has to turn down an invitation to prom?”  Laurel folded her arms, looking at her husband seriously.

“Laurel!” Tommy exclaimed.  “He’s a _miniature Oliver!_   How does that not concern you!”

Laurel shrugged, amused.  “I try to focus on the fact that he inherited a lot of Felicity’s genes, too.”


	37. The Same Everywhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: High school bullies AU of how Olicity met. Oliver (new in school) saves Felicity from bullies that were picking on her.

“Just look at her.  She think she’s so clever.”

“I heard she’s here on scholarship.  Mommy and Daddy couldn’t afford it.”

 _“I_ heard her mom works at a club in Vegas.”

“As what?  A stripper?”

“Do you think she’s one, too?”

“Like an after school job?”

The three girls burst into giggles while Felicity tried to pretend she hadn’t heard them, although her ears were burning and her face felt hot with shame.  She knew her blush must be a dead giveaway.

They giggled still harder as Felicity passed by, clutching an over-sized AP Calculus book in her arms, and Felicity’s stomach sank.  She’d been hoping things would be different now that she’d switched from public to private school, but teenage girls were the same everywhere.  She reached her locker and continued attempting not to hear their snide whispers.

But the hissing and snickering came to an abrupt halt a moment later when a male voice interjected.  “Lisa, don’t you have anything better to do?”

"Hey, _Tommy,”_ Lisa’s voice turned into a sing-song, flirtatious lilt, and Felicity fought an urge to roll her eyes, resisting the temptation to look in the group’s direction.  _“Ollie.”_

There was a small sigh, “Hey, girls,” a second voice deadpanned.  “I see no one’s dropped a house on any of you yet.  But hey, it’s only 9:00 A.M.  Here’s hoping.”

Felicity couldn’t help it, not the small burst of laughter that bubbled from her lips or the fact that she looked up.  It was to see two very attractive boys, one of which, a blond, was looking right at her.  He caught her eye and winked.

Blushing furiously, Felicity quickly turned away and busied herself in her locker.

It was that reaction in particular that made Oliver sit up and take notice of Felicity.  As he and Tommy made their way past her, he tried to catch her attention but she was very determinedly focusing on changing out her books, keeping her head down and trying not to draw attention to herself.

She dropped a book, though, and Tommy was surprised minutes later, upon reaching his and Oliver’s classroom, to realize that Oliver, whom he had thought was still beside him, had vanished.

“Hi,” Oliver said, appearing instantly at Felicity’s side to pick up her book before she had the chance.  “I’m Ollie.”

“I know who you are,” Felicity blurted.  “You’re Oliver Queen.”  He grinned, evidently pleased that his reputation preceded him.  “Can I, um, have my book back?” she asked hesitantly, wary of more teasing.

“Nope,” he said calmly.  “Where are you going?”

She straightened her glasses nervously.  “Um…” she glanced at her schedule.  “Warren for economics.”

“Great.  I’ll take you,” he said, grabbing her book-bag from her arms and slinging it over his shoulder before she could protest, setting off in the direction of her class—coincidentally, the opposite direction of his own class with Tommy.  Not that Oliver cared about being late.

Felicity shut her locker and quickly hurried to his side, confused but in no small way relishing the shocked expressions on the faces of Lisa and her crew of harpies.

Maybe something here would be different after all.


	38. Give It A Rest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: How about Roy calling Oliver and Felicity mummy & daddy when they start auguring about what Roy can and can not do. Maybe in front of everyone.

“Why is it that you’re the only one who’s allowed to risk his life without anyone saying anything, Oliver?  He can go if he wants to!”

“Absolutely not!  And it’s different with me!”

“Why?  Because you’re better at brooding than the rest of us?”

“Because I’m responsible for Roy and the rest of you!”

“Oh, bull- _shit_ , Oliver!  Absolute bullshit!  This is personal for him!  You can’t stop him just because you’ve got a guilt complex large enough to set up its own government and declare its independence from the union!”

“The fact that it’s personal is exactly _why_ he needs to stay behind!  He’ll be a liability!”

“Oh, what?  Like you never let your emotions cloud your judgement?  God, you are such a hypocrite!”

Roy rolled his eyes.  This had been going on for the better part of an hour. 

“Hey!” he yelled.  “Mom!  Dad!  Would you please give it a rest?”

Diggle and Sara snickered in the background.


	39. Funny How It Hurts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt 1: OKAY So, going from what little we know of Felicity's backstory, her dad abandoned her when she was young and it seems like she has a rough relationship with her mom. i would love some Felicity angst after the finale when Oliver says "i love you" but in the end it was all for show (or so she thinks). It seems like with her lack of family and life outside Arrow-ing, Digg and Oliver are the only people she really has. Meaning, she probably doesn't hear the words 'I love you' very often. [tbc]
> 
> prompt 2: some Smiggle friendship!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to combine these two prompts because even though I love me some Olicity, I adore the Felicity/Digg friendship (Smiggle? Fun word, but I think Figg is even cuter. Whatever.), and if there’s one thing the entire Arrow fandom can agree on, it’s that we all love it when Diggle drops some truth bombs.

She wished she could cry.  That might make it easier, the catharsis of shedding tears and letting a few sobs tear through her body would help, might even allow her to heal.  But as it was, all she could do was feel.

She ached, her body groaning beneath the weight of emotion she couldn’t cope with or even name.  There was a gnawing feeling inside of her, like something dully clawing at the walls of her heart, not strong enough to tear through, but powerful enough to make itself felt and felt keenly.

“Damn it!” she burst out suddenly, throwing her cup of tea against the wall of her kitchen in a sudden fit of rage.  It smashed with a beautiful shattering sound and tea splattered everywhere along with the beautifully broken shards of porcelain.

Her anger fleeing her as quickly as it had come, she choked out a dry, weak little sob and stared at the mess.  Her shoulders slumped and she dropped her head with a weighted sigh before fetching a small brush and dustpan, picking up the jagged pieces of the mug before taking a roll of paper towels to the spilt tea.  She dumped the mess in the waste bin before setting about making a new cup of tea.

She had just dropped the tea bag into the hot water when her doorbell rang.  She frowned, wondering briefly if she’d ordered takeout without realizing it.  She wouldn’t put it past herself at the moment.  She’d been running on autopilot all day.

She was surprised, upon peering through the peep hole, to find Diggle standing on the other side of her door.  With a deep sigh, she quickly rubbed her hand across her cheeks, wiping away tear stains that weren’t actually there before pulling her shoulders back.

She opened the door and forced the most convincing smile she could muster.  “Hey!  I didn’t expect to see you today!  I would have thought you wouldn’t be leaving Lyla’s side for a while.”

Diggle smiled at her, not fooled by her false bravado for a moment.  “Yeah, well, I figure I need to give her a chance to miss me, and I thought I’d come check on you.  Can I come in?” he asked.

Eyeing him warily, she stepped aside and pulled the door open a little wider for him.  “Of course!  Come on in!  Do you want some tea?  I was just making some tea.”

Diggle hesitated before answering.  “Sure.  Why not?” he answered, letting her lead the way to her small kitchen and watching as she set about fixing another cup for him.

“You like it with honey, right?” she asked, fishing in her cabinets, still not looking at him, but acutely aware of his scrutiny.

“However is fine,” Diggle said.  “Felicity…I wanted to make sure you were okay.  I know we talked.  And I know you and Oliver talked—” he broke off, seeing the way she stilled very suddenly, almost imperceptibly, before continuing what she was doing.

“I’m fine, John.”

“You’re not.”  She didn’t reply, and he gently placed his hand on her arm to force her to pause her movement.  “Felicity.  Talk to me.”

It was what Oliver always said, and all of a sudden she couldn’t handle it.  The tears she’d been hoping would come all day immediately burst forth, and now, when she so desperately wanted to conceal them, they refused to be kept at bay.  She turned into Diggle and dropped her head against his chest.

He sighed, as if he’d been anticipating this, and wrapped his arms around her.  “Okay,” he soothed softly.  “You’ve been through an ordeal.  No shame in crying,” he comforted.  “All good soldiers indulge in a good cry now and again.”

Felicity uttered a shaky sob and buried her face deeper in his chest, letting him hold her.

“Yeah.”  Diggle closed his eyes, knowing this wasn’t really about being kidnapped.  “Do you wanna talk about it?”

She shook her head adamantly, then paused, and slowly nodded her head.  “Yeah,” she said in a small voice.

Diggle chuckled softly.  “Whenever you’re ready.”

“I’m sorry, I feel like I do this to you a lot,” she sniffed, thinking of the number of times in the last couple of years she’d ended up crying on Digg’s shoulder, literally.  It was a bad habit she was getting into.  He patted the back of her head and she lifted it to look at him, her eyes red and puffy.  “Sorry,” she repeated.

He smiled at her, that kind, affectionate smile he so often reserved just for her, that made her wish she’d had brothers growing up because that must be how brothers smiled at their baby sisters when they were thinking about how much they loved them.  “Felicity,” he said, “the only time you ever have to apologize to me—”

“—is when I steal the last fry at Big Belly Burger.  I know,” she finished, giving him a watery smile.  “I just…I realized something this morning, and it hurt.  A lot.  And I just don’t know how to—” she broke off, overwhelmed with tears again.  “Ugh!” she scoffed at her own weakness, frustrated as she brusquely brushed the tears away.

“This is about Oliver telling you he loved you,” Diggle surmised matter-of-factly, as if it had ever been in question.

“It’s stupid!  I know why he did it, but—”

“You have feelings for him.”

“It’s not just that!” she said, a hard edge in her voice.  “I…John, you know I don’t talk about my family, and you know why.  But the thing is…you know how when you talk to a family member on the phone and before you hang up you say, ‘Love you.  Bye?’  Or how when you say goodbye to a friend after a lunch date, you kiss each other on the cheek and say ‘I love you—see you tomorrow?’”

“That’s not really a guy thing, but—”

“You know what I’m talking about!”

The small smile on Diggle’s face flickered away and he nodded his head in understanding.  “Yeah.”

“Well I realized today that I don’t know the last time someone told me they loved me.  I don’t think my boyfriend at MIT ever even said it.  I don’t even _speak_ to my family, Digg.  And when I was growing up, mommy dearest wasn’t exactly affectionate, and I—” she broke off again, her voice having tightened with hysteria.  “It just hurts that the first time I’ve heard that in years was just an act, and I…I…” she fell into more tears and couldn’t finish her sentence.

“You wanted it to be real,” Diggle supplied, shaking his head.  He knew Oliver had had little choice, and he even knew that Felicity not only understood but even supported Oliver’s decision to use her to trick Slade, but that didn’t mean it was any less damaging.

Felicity looked at him, full of shame and suffering, trembling as she nodded.  “I did,” she choked out, before she was back in his arms again and he was hugging her tightly.  “I really did.”

“Listen, Felicity,” Diggle said, squeezing her in his vice-like grip, coiling his arms around her so tightly she almost couldn’t breathe—and she welcomed the suffocating protection it offered.  “I could give you a whole speech about what an incredibly special person you are, and we’d be here all week while I listed the reasons, but I’ll cut it short.  I guess I don’t say it, but I’m gonna start: I love you so much.  You’re like family to me,” he gave her another squeeze while she sobbed.  “I would take bullets for you any day of the week.  And I happen to know that Roy feels the same way that I do.  And so does Sara.”

There was a quiet pause while she cried softly and he rubbed his hand up and down her back.

“But I won’t say that for Oliver.  Because as intensely as I care about you, and as fiercely as Roy and Sara love you, none of us even comes close to loving you the way that Oliver Queen does.  He’s emotionally stunted and stubborn and bull-headed and, frankly, a complete moron.  But he loves you so much I’m surprised he doesn’t spontaneously combust from it.  And personally, I think he’s just lately been starting to realize it.  I have no idea if he’s ever going to do anything about it, or if he knows that he doesn’t just love you, he’s _in_ love with you…but—” Diggle released one last heavy sigh, “that doesn’t make any of it any less true.  I’m sorry that what you two had to do a few days ago struck such a cord with you; I honestly think he would have let the city burn if he’d had any idea just how bad it would be.”

Felicity chuckled through her tears, knowing he was probably right.  “I’m glad he did it, though.  It was smart.  He did the right thing.”

“Funny how much the right thing hurts sometimes, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”


	40. What Have You Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: oliver's not the only one with a hard-partying past. growing up in vegas, felicity had her fair share of fun before buckling down and applying to MIT.

“No freaking way.”  Roy stared at his phone and the video Thea had sent him, accompanied only with the message:

»»YOU’RE NEVER GONNA BELIEVE WHAT I FOUND ON THE WEB

“What are you looking at?”

Diggle had walked up behind him to see the phone, and his mouth quickly fell open.  “Oh my God.  Where did you find this?”

“Thea…sent it to me.  I have no idea.”

“We shouldn’t be watching this.”

“I know but…but I can’t help it.”

“What are you two doing?” Oliver frowned, walking over to them and leaning over both their shoulders.  He raised an eyebrow at the video playing on Roy’s phone.  It was of a bunch of people partying in a bar, and a trio of girls were dancing provocatively on a bar top, grinding on each other, the blonde one in the middle clearly into it, as she held her beer in the air, hips rolling with the music while men whistled and hollered in the background.  Her face turned toward the camera and Oliver’s body went still with the shock of recognition.  “Felicity?” he stared, unable to tear his eyes away.  “What…what is this?”

“Thea found it.  It’s a few years old.  I think it’s from Felicity’s freshman year at college.  If my math is right.”

“We shouldn’t be watching this,” Oliver said, voice low with protectiveness, still not looking away from the video as one of the girls turned to Felicity and started necking her.

“That’s what I said,” Diggle commented.

“And you’re both right,” Roy agreed.

None of them made a move to pause the video.

“Hey guys, what’s up?” Felicity asked as she came down the stairs and all three men spun around guiltily, Roy frantically fumbling with his phone in desperation before hiding it behind his back.

Felicity eyed their guilty expressions, then sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.  “Oh God.  What have you found and how long is it going to take me to delete it from the web?”


	41. We Are All At Her Mercy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: I was wondering if you could write about Felicity and the arrow team meeting Ra's Al Ghul and Felicity just her being completely adorable self and Ra's being smitten by her.Or something along those lines. Thanks again and have a great day! =)

“Father, what have you done?”

Ra’s Al Guhl raised an eyebrow, his expression otherwise betraying nothing.

“Do you not know who this is?”

“I tried to tell him,” Felicity looked exasperated but nervous.

“This is Felicity Smoak, member of Team Arrow and the leader of MIT, army of technological warriors.”

“Yeah, I… wait, no I just went there.”  Felicity did a small double-take at Nyssa in confusion.

“She is the hero of Starling, Conqueror of Slade Wilson the Deathstroke.”

“Wait it wasn’t actually like that, I was just there, I didn’t do anything—”

Nyssa gave her a look.  “Did you or did you not incapacitate Deathstroke, allowing Oliver Queen to deliver the final defeating blow?  And was your word not the only thing that prevented him from killing Deathstroke, the reaper of death?  She holds more power than you realize, Father.”

“Look, when you phrase it like that it sounds way more—”

“Nyssa…daughter, I am well aware of who she is,” Ra’s interrupted, eyeing Felicity with the faintest trace of amusement around his mouth.

Felicity was still stammering protests that she was none of the things, when Nyssa replied.  “Then you are aware that Oliver Queen is in love with her.”

“I am.”

“Father!” Nyssa exclaimed, and it was the most ruffled Felicity had ever seen the otherwise cool and calculated woman.  “Then you know that he will kill us all for taking her.  And she is the only one who can influence him.  We are at her mercy.”

“On the contrary, Nyssa,” he said imperiously.  “I have no intention of harming Miss Smoak.  I simply desire her rather charming company.”

“And Oliver’s,” Felicity supplied dryly.

Ra’s gave her a look of approval.  “It is understood that where you are taken, he is sure to follow.  I see no reason to harm you or make you uncomfortable to accomplish that end.  And in the meantime I have the pleasure of getting to know you better.  Tell me more about why you would persuade Oliver Queen to show mercy on his mortal enemy,” he said, settling back into his chair and looking at her with interest, gesturing for Felicity and his daughter to do the same.

Nyssa, seemingly placated for the moment, joined her father, though she still seemed to be anxiously expecting an arrow to fly at her father’s chest any moment.

When Oliver found Felicity an hour later, she was mid-story, animatedly describing the time she had locked Oliver in his own lair to talk him out of killing a widowed father.  And Ra’s Al Guhl was doing the most bizarre thing he’d ever imagined: chuckling.


	42. Keynote

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: Felicity gets selected to be a keynote speaker for some convention and it's at a college. All the frat boys asking her to make their sexy secretary fantasies come true won't know what hit them when they meet Oliver, her very jealous, very intimidating boyfriend.

“I think I’m in love,” one of the young men groaned, while the others around him snickered.  “She literally has the sexiest brain on the planet.”

“Oh get over yourself, Simmons.  No one’s looking at her  _brain_.  She is so far out of your league—”

“Oh, what?  Like she’d go for someone like you, Davies?”

“More likely me than you.  Did you check out her bio in the program?  She’s Oliver Queen’s _secretary_.”

There was a chorus of moans and suggestive laughter.  “Oh, I could show her a few things around the office.”

“You’re such an ass, Preis.  Why do you always have to talk about women that way?”

“No more than you, Simmons.  Tell me you can’t just picture the late nights at the office, her bringing you coffee… ‘Will that be _all_ , Mr. Preis?’…” Preis trailed off suggestively.

“Actually,” a fifth voice joined them from behind, “Most days, I bring Ms. Smoak coffee, not the other way around.”

The three college students cringed, turning slowly to find Oliver Queen standing with Felicity Smoak’s hand linked lightly to the crook of his elbow.

“Evening, gentlemen,” Oliver said, acting pleasant, as if nothing were out of place.  “How did you enjoy the speech?”

“Oh, it was excellent, Ms. Smoak, I’m a huge fan of your work,” Simmons stepped forward eagerly to shake Felicity’s hand.

Felicity smiled, shaking his in return.  “Thank you…?”

“Simmons.  Joshua Simmons.”

“Thank you, Joshua.  Oliver, are you ready to get going soon?  I hate these things.”  She gave him a look, implying that she’d really like nothing more than to get as far away as possible from the young men.

“Just give me one second, Felicity,” Oliver said gently.  “Simmons, you said?” he turned to the young man.  “Why don’t you introduce us to your friends?”

“Oh, um, right…this is Mike Davies, Aaron Preis, and Juan Rivera.”

“Preis…” Oliver pretended to ponder the name.  “Aaron Preis…Felicity, didn’t we have an application come in from a Preis just the other day?”

“Oh, that was mine, sir,” Preis stepped forward eagerly before Felicity could reply.  “I’m applying for the—”

“Don’t bother,” Oliver cut him short, suddenly turning serious.  The color drained from Preis’s face.  “If I were you, if you plan on getting hired anywhere in the near future, I’d develop a different attitude about women—particularly my girlfriend.”  Felicity turned her head to hide her smile. 

“Actually,” Oliver glanced at Davies and Rivera, “that goes for you as well.  Mr. Simmons?” he added, turning back to the man in question, who looked terrified out of his mind, “Let either of us know if you need a letter of recommendation.”  He grinned before patting Felicity’s hand.  “Okay, dear.  Now we can go.”

“I _knew_ there was a reason I caved in and agreed to date you,” the young men heard her saying as she and Oliver walked away.

"And here I thought it was for my rugged good looks, not my chivalry."


	43. Unzipped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: Thea and Felicity go shopping together. Thea sees bruises all over Felicity's back and neck. She freaks out until she learns they're hickies from Oliver. Yay awkward (future sister-in law) bonding!

Thea chuckled as she heard another pained grunt from inside the changing stall.  “Do you need some help in there?  It sounds like you’re being tortured.”

“I just—ugh—can’t quite reach the zipper.  This dress was definitely a size too small.  Do you mind?”

“ ‘course not,” Thea shrugged, stepping behind the curtain and nudging Felicity’s hands out of the way so she could unhook it and then lower the zipper halfway.

 _“Thank you,”_ Felicity groaned, “I couldn’t breathe.  What’s wrong?”  She had turned to see a horrified, wide-eyed expression on Thea’s face.

Thea spun her back around to exam Felicity’s back.  “What happened?” she demanded.  “Oh my god, are you okay?”

“I…what?” Felicity asked, confused.

“Felicity!  There are bruises all over your back!  What the hell happened to you?”

“What are you talking about?” Felicity asked, twisting around awkwardly to attempt to examine her back in the dressing room mirror.  “Oh,” she deadpanned, spotting the bruises Thea was talking about.  Felicity’s face flushed bright red.

“Oh?  _Oh?_ That’s all you can say?  Girl, what happened?  Did someone try to hurt you?  Because I swear to God, I will—”

“Nobody tried to hurt me!” Felicity exclaimed, fumbling for her shirt to pull it on quickly before shimmying the rest of the way out of the dress.  “It’s nothing.  I promise, it’s not—”

“Nothing is _exactly_ what it’s not, Felicity!  How on earth did you get those?”

“I…well…” Felicity yanked on her skirt desperate to get out of the dressing room, her face hot with embarrassment.  “It was…maybe not so much…”

“Does Oliver know about this?”

Felicity couldn’t help it.  She rolled her eyes and huffed, “Yes.”

“Yes?  And he didn’t say anything?”

“He gave them to me, Thea!  Jeez!” Felicity blurted before rushing past the curtain, leaving Thea blinking in confusion.

Felicity was nearly out of the changing area when she heard Thea’s voice loudly announce, “THOSE ARE _HICKIES?”_


	44. Marc Antony & Pussyfoot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: Felicity can't help adopting a teeny kitten and brings it home to Oliver who pretends he doesn't like it, but she catches him being all cute with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case your childhood was deprived, the title is a reference to this Looney Tunes cartoon (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WcExDrS0ILM), which is basically exactly how I picture Oliver with a kitten.

_“It’s annoying,”_ he’d said.

 _“It’s in the way, and needs constant attention,”_ he’d said.

 _“We can’t possibly keep it,”_ he’d said.

Felicity covered her mouth to hide her laughter at the sight of Oliver lying on his back on the floor of her living room, the small calico kitten on his chest, as he toyed with its paws, a dopey expression on his face.  The kitten meowed and gently batted a paw at his finger, then appeared to lose its balance, and Oliver chuckled, keeping it from tumbling off his chest with a steadying hand.

…which the kitten just batted at again.


	45. You Have to Explain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: Okay so I just saw a headline that read, "Barefoot and Handcuffed" and it screamed pre-island Oliver to me. How about a little drabble about Felicity finding the article?

Felicity bit her lip, unsuccessfully trying to hold back her snickering.  Oliver rolled his eyes.

“No, wait…wait, how did—” she broke off, collapsing into giggles as she stared at the article online of a younger Oliver, his wrists handcuffed together around a lamp post, and his shoes completely missing.  He looked totally amused, even though someone was taking a picture of him like this.

“Would you just delete it already?”

“No!” she gasped.  “I’m printing a copy for posterity!”

“Oh for the love of—” Oliver sighed, rubbing a hand over his face and heading for the door.  “I’ll come back later when you’ve pulled yourself together.”

“No wait!” Felicity cried gleefully after him, still overcome with laughter too much to chase after him.  “Wait you have to explain—” she wailed with laughter, “—You have to explain how you lost your shoes!” she called out as Oliver determinedly ignored her, but couldn’t help chuckling a bit himself anyway.


	46. Sore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: Oliver walks on Felicity having a shower after training with Diggle ... they kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, shower tropes. :)

Felicity groaned as water beat down her back.  Her whole body was aching from this new training regimen Digg had her on.  Ever muscle was so sore.  Muscles she hadn’t even known she had hurt.  Thank _God_ Oliver’s new hideout was equipped with a small bathroom, complete with shower.  She didn’t think she’d have made it home without the heat therapy to ease some of the tightness.

But what was once piping hot water was slowly turning cool, and she could see the tips of her fingers pruning, so that was probably a sign she needed to get out.  She put the cap back on the bottle of shampoo Oliver had left there and tipped her hair back beneath the water one more time.  With a soft groan she shut off the faucet, then grabbed her towel from the bar as she pushed open the curtain and—

“OH MY GOD, OLIVER!” she shrieked, clutching the towel to her chest.  “What are you _doing?”_ she demanded.

Oliver was frozen like a dear-in-the-headlights, halfway in the cracked door of the bathroom, one hand on a towel on the hand-towel bar behind the sink.  “I…” he swallowed nervously, unable to recall what he’d been doing five seconds before Felicity had suddenly turned off the shower.

 _“Oliver!”_ she berated.

Snapping back to himself, Oliver gave her a sheepish yet somehow remorseless look.  “I didn’t mean to see anything.  I was just poking my head in to grab a towel.”

 _“Why?”  Would he please look away already?_ Felicity groaned internally, flushing right down to her toes as she clung to the towel for cover, unable to wrap it around herself with him standing right there.

“Because…I’m sweaty?” Oliver supplied, looking at her as though this should be obvious.  And indeed, his chest was glistening with a thin sheen of post-workout sweat, skin flushed from exertion.

“Oh.  Right.  Sorry,” she stammered, before remembering that _he_ was the one who had walked in on _her_ shower.  She adjusted the towel slightly and wondered why he was still standing there gawking at her.

Oliver’s brow was creased slightly, and he seemed to be thinking about something while Felicity was awkwardly attempting to wrap the towel around her.  “Felicity…I know I’ve been a jerk lately about the whole…” he hesitated, _“training…_ thing.”

She shot him a sardonic look as she finally tucked the end of the towel into itself and breathed a slight sigh of relief now that she was decent.  “Gee, ya think?”

He cringed internally, just like he always did when she was openly angry with him.  “I know.  I’m sorry,” he said carefully, seeking to meet her eyes. 

She wasn’t looking at him, though, she was attempting to step out of the tub without losing her towel.  Sighing, he entered the bathroom the rest of the way and walked over to help her before she could slip and break her neck.  “I mean it,” he said, grabbing her elbow to steady her.

It was a mistake, he realized too late.  Getting that close to her meant being able to smell his shampoo on her.  He could see the rivulets of water running from her wet hair down her chest and beneath the towel.  He realized suddenly that he’d said something, and attempted to focus.

“…and I just don’t understand why it bothers you!  I mean, every time you guys have to take me out in the field, I’m a liability!  It can’t hurt me to at least have some basic self-defense!  Sara gets it!  Diggle gets it!  Why do you have such a problem with it?”

Oliver tensed, not wanting to admit the real problem.  But he knew from the look on her face that he needed to come clean.  “I…Felicity,” he said, because somehow conversations with Felicity needed to be prefaced with her name, to help center him.  “It’s not that I think it’s a bad idea.  It’s just that,” he hesitated again, knowing she wasn’t going to like what he was going to say, fully aware of how completely irrational his logic was, “when I see you training with Digg…I don’t see you with Digg.  I see you taking on some faceless guy three times your size and it scares me.  I don’t like to see you putting yourself in those situations because I don’t want you to get hurt.  I like you…” he swallowed, “I like you away from danger.”

Her expression softened at his admission, and she heaved a little sigh of impatience, but when she replied, there was understanding in her voice.  “Oliver…I’m not planning to go _looking_ for trouble.  Trust me.  I have no desire to ever be in that situation, either.  I’m completely aware that I’m not a fighter.  But it’s like I said: it’s not going to hurt me to know at least the basics of how to handle myself.  Because like it or not, you can’t always be there.”

She had hit on his greatest fear and he wondered if she realized it.  “I will be,” he said firmly.

“Oliver,” she shook her head, exasperated.  “You cannot physically be there every time something happens.  And I don’t want you constantly worried about me.  I just want to have a fighting chance.”

He looked away, formulating his response, and the fingers of his free hand tapped together, rolling the shaft of an invisible arrow.  Felicity’s hand interrupted the motion, spreading his fingers wide before lacing hers between them.  “Hey,” she said, drawing him back to her.  “I know that you will always do everything you can to keep me safe,” she said, looking into his eyes and meaning every word of it.  “But I need to do this for me.  And I want you to support that.”

All he could think about was her hand tangled up in his, his lips parting unconsciously as his gaze flickered to her mouth for a split second. 

“Okay,” he said quietly, and he was rewarded with a small smile.

“Thank you,” she said, lifting up on her toes to kiss him on the cheek in gratitude.

It might actually have been reflex.  He wasn’t sure.  But for whatever reason, he turned his head to meet the innocent peck full on.  He felt her small release of breath in surprise as his lips molded to hers, and he caught her around the waist as she rocked back to keep her from falling.

He didn’t know that his arms pressing so tightly to her body were awakening those oh-so-sore muscles, and she groaned in response to the dull ache, opening her mouth to him and allowing him to deepen the kiss.  Her hands found their way to his shoulders for support and Oliver had to catch his breath when her nails gently scraped at the base of his scalp, her body pressing still closer to him, the only barrier between them a cheap towel, worn thin from over-use.

His hips surged against her as his tongue stroked hers suggestively, all the while a small voice shouting alarmingly in his head, demanding to know just what he thought he was doing.  He beat the voice down by reminding it that if he was going to completely fuck up, he was damn well going to make it worth both their while.

Felicity’s tongue curled around his, pinning it for a moment before allowing him to dominate it again, and he raked a hand up her back to bury in her hair, tangling it in the wet tendrils of her hair.  She moaned softly into his mouth as he cradled the back of her head, and in reply he sucked on first her top lip and then her bottom lip before attacking with fresh vigor.

Her towel slipped slightly, and he felt her press closer to him again to keep it from falling, but at the same time, she drew her mouth away, turning to the side to gasp for breath, the towel’s movement obviously grounding her back to reality.

Not ready to let go just yet, but heart already clenching in anticipation of the impending separation, his ran his lips up her jaw and kiss her temple before resting his head on top of hers.

“We’re—” she started.

“I know,” he sighed.

“We were supposed to—”

“I know,” he emphasized.

She started to pull away.  “I think I should—”

“No,” he said, arms squeezing her tightly and bringing her back into him.

She moaned, turning her face into his chest, her breath dancing across his bare skin.  “Ugh, everything aches,” she whined, and he chuckled.  “Not like that,” she added.  There was a pause, then.  “So are we—”

“I don’t know.”

She sighed.  “We’re going to pretend this didn’t happen, aren’t we?”

There it was, that throb of pain in his chest.  He wanted to say no.  But….

“Oliver?”

“Hmm?”

“I don’t want to pretend it didn’t happen.”

“Me either.”

“Oh.”  She paused again.  “Okay.”

“Maybe…maybe slow could work.”

He could actually _feel_ the slow swell of hope in her chest at his words. 

“Slow is good.”

“Slow is very good.”

“Slow usually involves more clothes than this.  Just in my experience.  Not that I’m complaining.  And I’m pretty used to you not wearing clothes.  Not that I’ve seen you naked, I just mean that you never wear shirts.  Well, not never; obviously you wear shirts some of the time, but of all the men I know, you do wear shirts surprisingly infrequently, and—” she cut off in response to the soft rumbling in his chest as he chuckled.

“Got it,” he said, reluctantly starting to let go of her so that they could both find their respective clothes.  Hadn’t he come in here for a towel originally?  He was fairly sure that had been the initial plan.

“Wait not yet,” Felicity said, pulling him back.

He laughed again, that soft, quiet laugh so often reserved just for her. 

“Comfortable?” he asked as she snuggled into him.

“Very.”


	47. Massive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: oliver is away patrolling, coms are on, and a huge spider lands on felicity's hand while she's in the lair making her scream and oliver panic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> None of you understands how much I relate to this prompt because ARACHNAPHOBIA OKAY????
> 
> Basically my policy with spiders is KILL IT WITH FIRE.

_“Oliver, it’s been dead for an hour,”_ Felicity’s voiced sighed in his ear.  _“Turn it in.  Come home and actually get a decent night’s sleep for once.”_

He sighed.  “Yeah, all right,” he replied, turning his bike around and heading back to the foundry.  “Is there any food left?”

_“I saved a Dragon Roll just for yoUUU OH MY GOD GET AWAY!”_

“Felicity?” Oliver asked frantically.  “Felicity what happened?”

All he could hear in response was the sound of Felicity shrieking.

“FELICITY!” he roared, rushing in the direction of the foundry at top speed.

 _“Oh my God Oh my God Oh my God,”_ she chanted, obvious terror in her voice.

“Felicity, what’s going on?  Did someone break in?”

 _“I…no…I’m sorry, there’s no one here but can you please hurry?”_ she said, voice starting to regain some calm, but obviously still distraught.

“What’s going on Felicity?”

_“There’s…I just need you to kill it for me.”_

“What?  What’s in there?” his heart was pounding.

_“A spider.”_

He couldn’t help it.  He came to a screeching halt, needing to make sure he’d heard that correctly.  “…Felicity?” he deadpanned.

_“It’s really huge, okay?  And it made a deliberate attempt on my life.”_

He didn’t know how to respond to that.

 _“It was in my_ hair, _Oliver!”_ she whined.  _“MY HAIR, OKAY?  Would you please just get your leather-clad ass over here and kill it for me?”_

He couldn’t help it.  He smirked.  “You can’t kill it yourself?”

 _“Oliver,”_ she whined.  _“It’s on my keyboard now.  And it’s seriously massive.  Oh, I_ hate _this new lair.”_

“Define ‘massive,’” he said, kicking his bike back into gear and heading her way at a less neck-breaking speed.  “Is it bigger than a quarter?”

_“YES, Dammit!  Stop making fun of me.  I just about had a heart attack.”_

She had a heart attack?  What about him?

_“I’m in my hour of need, Oliver, damn you.”_

“I’m coming; I’m coming,” he sighed.

 _“Oliver, if you don’t get here soon I_ will _use fire to kill it.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> last one! Wooooooo! :D
> 
> Thanks for all the prompts, guys. I'll let you know on Tumblr the next time I'm taking prompts.


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